Percy Jackson and the New World Order
by Sagelabo
Summary: The Titan War is over. But the struggle is not. Percy Jackson and friends are contacted by a powerful group of rogue demigods intent on destroying the Gods. Their choices and their wars will change history. (Mediocre summary? My first FF, please read and review. Rated T, maybe M later on.)
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

Orion

Above Tabora airport, Tanzania, 2:30 local time

"You awake back there, Remy?"

Orion had a lot of names. Remy, Mause, Brown, and so on and so forth. Orion looked up. "Nope, completely unconscious." He called back. He couldn't see Gabriel, but knew he was smiling.

"Good, you might want to stay that way. Control tower isn't accepting our clearance. We'll have to fly around the city for a little bit." Remy sighed in annoyance.

"Hey, c'mon, what's that for? We've got the fuel to spare. The view isn't that mediocre."

Orion glanced at the photo on his laptop, which was staring back at him with bloodshot eyes and an expression that said "I am supreme commander of the world… just not right this second."

Gwandoya Mwenye was the name listed on the dossier. He was a two-bit warlord operating in a rural region a few hundred northeast of the city of Tabora. He used his militias to oppress various small villages in the area. He was vicious, cruel, and for the sake of the New World, he had to die. He gazed out the window of the small luxury Lear jet, staring directly at the sun. Even though the window wasn't tinted in any way, Orion was fine. Better than fine, in fact. An otherworldly strength started flowing through his limbs, as if the sun somehow made him more powerful. A lot had changed over Orion's life, but the sun never faltered. He took a moment to appreciate the simplicity. He was a hunter then, he was a hunter now.

Gabe's voice jarred Orion back to reality. "Hey, don't you have a disguise to prepare?"

A rich old man with the name Jacob Colt on his passport hobbled out of the Lear jet. He had a long white beard and long white hair that concealed a good deal of his face, and moved across the terminal slowly, even with the aid of a glossy black cane. He wore an exquisite Armani suit, but was hunched over so none could appreciate it. His suitcase was brought in the pilot, a good natured man who tried to stay with Colt as long as possible but needed to attend to his fuel supply.

"And what will you be doing here in Tanzania?" asked the customs officer, a middle aged woman with a kind smile.

"Exploring the world, seeing the sights." Orion rasped, surreptitiously sliding seventy American dollars over the counter. The rest of the inspection went smoothly. Both passport and suitcase passed through security without a fuss. The taxi ride to the hotel was equally quiet. Orion limped his way to the counter, all smiles.

"Excuse me, miss, I have a question."

"Yes, sir, may I help you?"

He suffused power into his words and manipulated the Mist around him. "My daughter, she should have arrived here a couple of days ago. Her name is Lisa Thompson, we have a reservation for room 305"

Lisa Thompson, of course, did not exist, but the attendant nodded dutifully and beckoned a concierge over.

Once in his room, Orion. took off the wig and neatly disassembled his cane, which in truth was the barrel and silencer of a gun. He took off the suit, taking several small nuts, bolts, and screws from the pockets and lining. Finally, he opened his suitcase, revealing the sleek black frame of a Barrett M95 rifle. And so the hunt begins.

15 hours later, rural Tanzania

Orion checked his weapon for the umpteenth time in the emerging light. He was lying down on a rooftop, completely invisible. He bent the Mist around him, making him undetectable to the naked eye. An incredibly useful maneuver, and one that took very little concentration to manage. Also, he was bored out of his mind.

He was sick of waiting for the sun to rise. The sun was peering over the horizon, but not enough to do what he wanted. He assumed it would only be a few minutes before he had the power to assault Mwenye's compound. The next trick took a lot more power than invisibility. He might be able to manage it on his own, but better not to take chances.

After a little more waiting, he was ready. He leaped down from the building, removing his camouflage. Two sentries spotted him and raised their rifles, poised to shoot. Orion let loose, radiating pure sunlight from his body. The sentries were blinded and missed pitifully. Orion, who of course was unaffected, shot them both with ease.

The one drawback to a .50 caliber rifle? It's very loud and very flashy. Ideally, Primus would've wanted a clean, silent assassination. However, Orion had been cooped up in headquarters for a very long time. He had absolutely no intention of slinking away in the shadows. A thicket of guards fell to martial arts, unerring accuracy, and superior firepower. There was some return fire, obviously, but Orion wasn't worried. He never was. Being able to blast pure sunlight from his hands helped, but Orion had another trick up his sleeve. He closed his eyes and felt the vibrations in the air. With every gunshot, the air shook more and more, like ripples in a pond. Orion now harnessed that energy and screamed with primal rage. The bloodcurdling yell harnessed the decibels of everything and anything nearby, including gunshots, and it was more than enough to render a grown man unconscious. The constant assault of both eyes and ears proved too much for all in his path. In contrast, Orion had all the time in the world to line up his shot.

And so, one man destroyed an army.

He spotted Mwenye running for dear life, unable to hear, unable to see, and bumping into everything in his path. His death was slow. It used up an entire magazine. The hunter was about to leave when he took one last look at his prey. A weak, pitiful thing, nothing like the enemies he was going to face next. "Goodbye, maggot" he crooned in Swahili. He carved something into a nearby tree and stalked away.

The tree read N.W.O.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Interception

Logos, NWO Headquarters, 1:00 local time

Logos steepled his hands, which was the motion for his supercomputer to zoom and enhance the image he was looking at right now. The footage was from a security camera in a New York City highrise apartment. Most people would have seen unconscious people on the floor while a storm raged outside. However, Logos was definitely not most people. He saw unconscious people on the floor while Central Park burned with green fire, irritable blue giants trudged down 34th street carrying telephone poles, and the patio outside was demolished by what appeared to be an enormous flying pig. The footage was from last week.

His hands flew across the keyboard, isolating and slowing down the flying pig. Finally, he found the frame he wanted. It would seem that a boy – a demigod – was clinging on to what appeared to be a grappling hook. He played the video only for a few seconds, but it was enough. Logos fit together the pieces. His eyes glowed with sinister understanding.

He would need to do some research first. But, as always, he had a plan. And even with his genius-level intellect, he could not remember the last time he had failed.

2 hours later, NWO conference room,

Firebug spoke first. He took a long drag on his Fuente cigar and exhaled, flames billowing around his dreadlocks. "So what did we come here for, Logos?"

"A war council."

Firebug was about to object, to say that the Titan war was over, but Caesar beat him to it.

Bloodthirsty as ever, Caesar was able to connect the crimson dots faster than anyone else. "There's another war, just around the corner." He crowed with a combination of reverence and badly hidden glee.

Logos nodded "The conflict will rouse Gaea from her slumber. Granted, it'll be a while before she fully wakes up, but we still don't have a lot of time."

Primus had his eyes closed, deep in thought. He opened them, and none could deny the ambition, power and confidence in those fell orbs. "I trust you, Logos. What do we need to do to ensure that we come out of this on top?"

"Well, the amount of action we take will depend on the decision we make here today. Orion, for the sake of those not in the loop, could you recite the most recent great prophecy, please?"

"Can do.

Seven half-bloods shall answer the call,

to storm or fire the world must fall.

An oath to keep with a final breath,

and foes bear arms to the Doors of Death."

Logos let that sink in for the briefest of moments. "These are the same Doors of Death," he continued, "that reside in the Motherland and the Pit."

"So all we have to do is contact the Europe Branch and the Zoo and shut the Doors from both sides, right?"

"Well…" Logos was about to reply when Angel cut in.

"If we agree to cooperate with the Greeks and the Romans." She supplied. She was not there in person, but there were several Iris-messages and webcams around the table.

"Correct." Logos agreed. "Firebug, your compassion is admirable, but the question remains: are the people we're saving worth saving?"

Emotions clashed on Firebug's face, although he tried not to show it. "No, sir." He replied with some reluctance. "Our people are. But not everybody."

Primus looked solemn. "A hard truth, but it is the truth. Are we in agreement to not take obvious action?" Everybody agreed.

Primus grinned, proud of the people he had gathered over the lifetimes he had lived. "Under the radar, though, that's where we excel. Logos, what's our next move?"

This was what the whole meeting was about. None could match Logos in wits and strategies.

"The Romans and the Greeks will have to work together to win this war." A few eyebrows went up, but no one entertained the notion that Logos could be mistaken. "This is a rather far-fetched claim, though, so let me prove it."

He gestured and one wall became a map of North America. There were red dots here and there across the states, totaling 20 or 30 at best. "This," Logos started, "is all the demigods that were claimed at this time last year. This next map is how many were claimed in this month alone." He pulled up another map, which had at least three times the dots of the old one. He then accessed the video feed from a traffic camera on the Queensboro Bridge, showing several bronze-clad children riding on skeletal horses. "Kronos had rogue demigods with him. If I had to guess, I would say they were resentful because they were abandoned by their Olympian parents. I would also guess that after this war, the Gods made an agreement to claim their children to avoid making this mistake again."

Another map came up, this one covered in thousands of black dots. Most of them were huddled in masses around three points, one on the East coast, and two on the West. "Courtesy our friends at the Zoo, here are all the monsters we have tabs on." Logos went on. "Now, it's normal for monsters to mob around both camps for a meal, but let's look at this third point." It was near the lower middle of Oregon and shaped like an arrow pointing down. "They plan to attack Camp Jupiter first, and in numbers the Romans cannot handle on their own."

Primus cut in. "So you think the Greeks will come to the Romans aid?"

"It's not that simple. Remember, the Romans hate the Greeks, but not vice versa. What I would do in this situation is sent a Greece's best towards the Bay Area, with the pretense of some minor quest, and have them spontaneously discover Camp Jupiter under attack."

"So where do we fit into this equation?" Caesar growled impatiently, cracking his knuckles.

"Well, you should know best, Caesar. Are you up to date on the Roman protocols? Where do all Romans go before Camp Jupiter?" Logos shot back.

"Well, that's easy. The…" Caesar stopped as it dawned on him. "The Wolf House."

"Precisely. I don't know exactly what path the Greek demigods will take, but I am almost certain that their path will run through that area. That's where we come in. We intercept the Greek team at the Wolf House, with some friends from the Zoo to make it look like run-of-the-mill monsters, then in all the commotion, we plant a tracker. I already have who we should give it to and where."

Logos pulled up a fourth image, the still frame of the boy holding on to the pig. "This," he remarked "is Percy Jackson." A fifth image came up, a newspaper heading from roughly five years ago. The title read _Terror Attack on St. Louis Arch, 12 year old suspected, _with a security camera photo of a younger version of Percy jumping out a window while what appeared to be a giant hound snarled on the left side of the picture. Several images followed the first. A swordfight on the West coast. A trashed exhibit at the Smithsonian. A New York City bridge collapsing. "He has been the cornerstone for Greek operations for many years." Logos continued.

"It would be unthinkable that he was not part of the team headed to Camp Jupiter. However, there is a catch."

The wall returned to the feed from the highrise. "Zoom and enhance." Logos commanded. The camera now followed a kitchen knife being flung into the air because of the destruction and neatly shattering upon impact with Percy's chest.

Logos and Primus exchanged a glance. "As you can see, Jackson's body is infused with the Styx's energy. I suggest planting the tracker in his sword." A final image of Jackson fighting came up, the lettering on his celestial bronze blade clearly visible.

"Anaklusmos. Riptide. A powerful weapon, if its history is to be believed. But what I want to focus on is a certain enchantment. If Jackson is disarmed, the weapon will return to him after a while."

"I get it." Firebug chimed in. "Our Zookeepers disarm him, and in the confusion, you want me to weld the tracker in. The sword goes back to the mark and _voila, _we have his location at all times."

"I couldn't have said it better myself."

Primus stood up. "So it's settled then. Logos, Orion, you're on overwatch. Firebug and Capricorn will be our core operatives. Nox, I want you there in case things get ugly." The five nodded. "OK, I want us at The Wolf House in an hour. Operation Interception is officially underway."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2

Wolf Season

Capricorn, The Wolf House, 20:00 local time.

"Three months of stakeout!" Orion roared, gouging another tally mark in the bark of pine tree he sat next to. The tree looked more like a war crime than a tree.

"Ah, shut up, Orion" Capricorn called back.

Everybody else had something to do, or at least wasn't as affected by the boredom. Nox stood like a statue. It had not moved for weeks. Logos had assured everyone that it was still alive, but it did not look that way. Somehow, dust did not collect on its immobile body, and its facemask was as unreadable as ever.

Firebug had cigars. He always had cigars. He always savored them. A good cigar could keep him occupied for hours. But he still smoked like a chimney.

Logos was tapping away at his computer endlessly, which made sense. His division definitely had the most work to do, and he couldn't slack off, not even in the field.

As for Capricorn, he had a whetstone, a mirror, and horns on his head that had not been sharpened since the last time he gored someone with them. Capricorn was a satyr, but his horns were different. They weren't just little nubs that stuck out of the top of his head. They protruded few inches past his face, unforgiving spikes of bone that were twisted and serrated from centuries of growth. With his 7 foot tall, muscle-bound body and murderous complexion, he looked more like a Minotaur. In summary, Capricorn had the deadliest headbutt of all time and was not the least bit afraid to use it.

As for Orion, he tried to keep himself entertained. The first few weeks had gone towards making ceramic bullets. They were hollow, made of clay, and shattered with lethal force upon impact. They were very useful tools if, say, you were posing as Gaea's minions and you didn't want to let your targets know they were getting shot by a modified Walther WA2000. Unfortunately, Orion didn't exactly miss often, and he had all the ceramic ammo he would ever need. He was so bored that he even challenged Logos to games of chess, although he decided to stop after a few humiliating 10-move defeats. It was a few minutes later that Capricorn discovered Orion attempting to hack away at the pine tree with a machete.

Fortunately, Capricorn had the foresight to tell all the nearby Dryads to go stay at their friend's places for a bit. Capricorn didn't like the mutilation of nature, but the mission came first. Stealth was not Orion's forte, and if he was bored enough, he would blow their cover. He swore on the River Styx the Dryad who lived in the tree that he would use his reed pipes to repair the damage before they left, and that was that.

That's not to say Orion was a burden. His keen eyes set the whole operation in motion. He spotted the target first. "Logos," He called. "We might be on to something here."

Soon, all eyes were on the unconscious body a couple hundred yards away.

"He matches the description, except he's out cold." Orion reported.

Logos thought for a bit. "Well, I wasn't expecting this. On the bright side, it doesn't have much impact on the plan overall. Hell, now all we have to do is distract the wolves. We move out at nightfall, when Nox's powers are strongest."

They didn't have to wait long; the sun was going down already. "Finally!" Orion cheered, flicking the safely off his rifle. Nox nodded noiselessly. Firebug snuffed out his cigar. Logos crossed his legs, the position he thought best in.

Capricorn scraped one hoof on the ground like a bull about to charge. "Oh, I'll do more than distract them. All right, ladies, move out!" As one, 20 lumps of earth marshaled themselves into six-armed giants and bellowed in approval.

The fight was going dismally. Capricorn was in back, commanding the Gegenees using his aura. Well, repeating the commands that Logos was giving him, anyway. The giants had to move and fight like dumb brutes, but had to survive long enough to be a distraction for Nox and Firebug. Capricorn had the unique ability to command the giants, but he was no strategist. This was Logos's territory.

4 of the 20 fell almost immediately. Lupa's wolves were agile and flanked them with ease. Logos had to arrange the giants sightlines so that they "coincidentally" watched each other's backs. Typically Orion had to help out by sniping a wolf that was about to break through the defense.

Meanwhile Nox and Firebug took the long way around to avoid detection. Nox's powers rendered them both invisible, but they had to be careful for the wolves heightened sense of smell. Only 10 of the giants were left by the time they reached Percy Jacksons comatose body.

Firebug snatched Riptide from a pocket. He focused for a second and his finger spouted flames, becoming a miniature blowtorch. He focused the flames on the grip of the sword, and the celestial bronze began to soften.

"This is where it gets tricky." Capricorn muttered under his breath. Celestial bronze was a hard, unyielding metal, and while it didn't explode like Imperial gold when tampered, it still had to be a very careful operation. The tracker was barely the size of a fingernail, but it had to be firmly lodged in the inside of the grip. This wasn't something that could be rushed. More bad news: there were only 8 giants left. At this point, keeping the giants alive was more important than keeping them realistically stupid, but the wolves might have done too much damage. They were spread out, and while they could still do a fair amount of damage, they didn't have eyes on the back of their heads, and the wolves were smart enough to use their numbers to their advantage.

At this point, Orion was firing away, his top notch suppressor concealing his whereabouts. The giants were also swinging away, and bodies, both wolf and giant, littered the ground.

5 giants left. 4. This was going to be close. The few survivors were covered in claw marks and bites, their backs against trees, scimitars emitting a dissonant clang as they clashed against teeth. Logos was done holding back, and under his guidance, the giants became ruthless killing machines. Capricorn abruptly stopped, realizing that the first wave of wolves were all dead.

Nox and Firebug were making their way back, their job finished.

"Go on ahead, guys." Capricorn told them. "I made a promise."

Logos, NWO Headquarters 23:00 local time

The tracker was already operational, and NWO's North America Branch was watching Jackson's location on the wall. He was conscious and moving, but still relatively close to the Wolf House.

"This couldn't have been all you had in mind, Logos." Primus said after a while, a bit disappointed with the simplicity.

"There are two other points to my plan." Logos replied on cue. "First, informants. Our people at Half-Blood and Jupiter remain reliable, but we need to know what's happening within Gaea's armies."

"I think I might be able to do something." Frost spoke up.

"Actually, that's not a bad idea. You've got a convincing grudge against the gods. Out of all of us, I'd say you're the best person for the job. Go to Gaea and convince her that you can be of use."

"Consider it done" She replied in French and logged off.

"Capricorn, get some of the specimens from the Zoo infiltrating as well."

"On it." Capricorn responded. "Nox, can you give me a hand?"

Nox nodded and they both stalked off.

"On to the next point," continued Logos. "The Doors of Death have opened, and it has come to my attention that many dead mortals from ancient times walk the Earth once again. We can take advantage of this."

"I know where this is going." Finished Primus. "We recruit more NWO members from the underworld and bring them back across. I approve this operation. In fact, I'll oversee it."

Those around him muttered in low tones. Some had never even seen their leader in action, just heard of his terrifying powers. Even Logos raised an eyebrow.

"Are you sure?" He asked simply.

"Definitely." Primus shot back, a determined and excited smile on his face. "There's been something that I've been meaning to do in the Underworld for a while. In the meantime, I suggest that you reflect on your pasts and what you have overcome to get to this point. I don't think the Final Judgment is very far away at this rate."

More muttering, louder and more insistent. What Primus called the Final Judgment was the entire reason NWO came into existence. Was their ultimate goal really in sight?

* * *

Hi there. First time making an authors note, please let me know if I do something stupid with formatting. "Other people usually bold their A/N's, etc." Coincidentally, that's exactly what i wanted to talk about here.

Let me know about stuff. If you have feedback, I would really appreciate it. If you want to compliment it, that's great too. I will accept all kinds of responses, both positive and negative. Obviously, I would prefer positive but that's not my call and I thank the people who will (hopefully) take the time to write a response.

To encourage feedback and commentary, Percy Jackson and the New World Order can go in two directions from here. One talks about NWO's operations in the present, war preparations and things like that. It will start with what Primus does in the underworld. Alternatively, we could delve into the past of several NWO agents, revealing their back stories and explaining habits, quirks, and how they came to be part of NWO. I will decide solely on my reader's comments, although if no one writes anything (TAT) I will go with the flashbacks.

Hope to hear from you soon,

Sagelabo

P.S. I switched over to army time to make the AM/PM local times less confusing


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 3

Firebug: Out of the Ashes

Firebug, NWO Headquarters, Present Day, 18:00 local time

Firebug was in his room, thinking.

"Reflect on your pasts, what you have overcome to get to this point." Primus had told them.

Unconsciously, he reached for a cigar. He willed one finger to burst into flames and lit the cigar, like he had done so many times before. He took a long drag, reliving the past. Absently, he took off his shirt.

Even with his muscled body, ebony skin, and painful looking scars that covered his body, the word DEVIL, written in slanted uneven lettering, was visible on his back in the fading light.

Bentonville, Virginia, 1842

Jomo was four when his master began to play with fire. That's what the master called it anyway. Jomo didn't know many words, but he knew he hated it when he had to play with fire.

Jomo didn't know how it started, it just happened one day. The master took him aside with a bunch of overseers watching. The master always had a cigar with him. He took the cigar and waved it in front of Jomo's face.

"You see this cigar?" he would ask lazily. Playing with fire always started with him asking that question. Jomo didn't know what to do at first, so he just nodded blankly.

"Well, it can talk." The master continued. Little Jomo's eyes got a little wider, but he didn't say or do anything.

"And you know what it says?" the master said, an evil smile forming on his face. Jomo didn't know, so he shook his head.

The master put his ear to the cigar, like he was listening to it. He listened to it for a long time. Finally, he put the cigar back into his mouth and breathed in.

"Lord, it's got a lot to say." The master leaned in, so that the smoke would go into Jomo's face when he talked. Jomo began to cough. The master waited for a little, but he grew impatient, so he kicked the 4 year old in the stomach. Jomo doubled over, spitting blood. One of the overseers grabbed Jomo's face and swung it towards the master.

"Here's what it says. It says, I have the power. I am in control here. You are completely at my mercy. It says you are scum of the Earth and that you will live out the rest of your very short life knowing that I am superior to you in every way."

Then he pressed the lit end of the cigar on Jomo's shoulder. Jomo screamed in pain and terror, and unconsciousness claimed him.

Bentonville, Virginia, September 1, 1850

The master was furious.

Somehow, Jomo wasn't affected by fire anymore. It still hurt; that was obvious from the expression on his face. But there was no lasting damage. Burn marks that had been there for years disappeared. No matter what kind of brand or how hot the flame, nobody could seem to create burns on his body.

Instead, the master now turned to whipping and beating, both of which worked fine. But it wasn't enough. Forcing his slaves to play with fire had worked for many years. He wasn't about to be undermined by this child. So he paid a small fortune to a blacksmith to create a giant brand in the shape of the word DEVIL in big, red-hot letters.

One day, the master called all the slaves and all the overseers to the center of his farm. The overseers had an expression of mild confusion, the slaves of hunger, pity, and despair.

"It has come to my attention," he began, "That this insolent slave," he pointed at Jomo, now 12 years old, "cannot be burned for some reason."

"I have concluded," he went on "that this boy is the worst of all you Negroes. In order to avoid punishment for his many transgressions, he has made a pact with the devil. And I cannot do anything to him about it!"

To prove his point, he pressed the DEVIL brand into Jomo's back with so much force that Jomo was stomach down on the dirt. After a tense silence, the master took the brand away. The world DEVIL could be seen on Jomo's back, but it began to fade away in plain sight.

Now, the master had hoped that the brand was big enough or the flame was hot enough to make the word stick, but he had a backup plan.

"I cannot punish him," he said, a sadistic grin forming on his face, "but I can punish his mother. For only a devil can spawn another devil! Bring her here!"

Jomo's mother was quickly shoved into the center of the crowd, a thin, emaciated woman who was clearly terrified about what was about to happen. The master thrust the brand on her chest. Her ragged clothes burst into flames, and she shrieked in agony. The master branded her again, half a foot lower. Jomo screamed and tried to run to his mother, but an overseer kicked him in the temple. He sprawled and was still. Other slaves cried in outrage and ran to help, but they too were forced back and beaten by the overseers. Jomo's mother could not be seen in a smoky mass of torches, brands and molten pokers.

Jomo came to 2 days later, just in time for the master to come to him with a clay pot filled to the brim with ashes. "Don't sneeze, boy!" he taunted, cackling as he left.

3 weeks later, the Maryland-Pennsylvania Border

Jomo couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten. He remembered what he'd eaten, a raw fish, but it seemed like such a long time ago. He had no idea where he was, except for the fact that he was going north. He could tell by the stars.

He ran the day after receiving the urn. He had never been outside the cotton farm his whole life, so when the hellhounds started to appear, he just assumed they were the local wildlife. In turn, Jomo did not know he was a demigod, so the hounds went by without a fuss. In any case, Jomo probably wouldn't have cared if he was eaten. He probably would have welcomed it. Grief had torn all sense of self-preservation from him. At least the fangs of a rabid monster didn't discriminate. They just needed a meal. Jomo guessed it would be a kind of mercy.

Mercy that the gun-toting mercenaries patrolling the area would certainly not offer. He plodded on, beyond caring who saw him meander through the trees.

Two men saw him meander through the trees. They were looking specifically for him. But they were no bounty hunters.

"Are you sure that's him?" One man asked skeptically.

"That's what Logos thinks. What's wrong with him?"

"Well, to think one of the gods would…with one of them…"

Primus frowned. "Metatron, we have no place for bigotry. Not us. We are above that. I wholeheartedly believe he is a demigod with extraordinary and rare abilities."

"If you say so." Metatron relented, although he was still doubtful.

"Here, I'll prove it. Those two over there just saw him."

Jomo didn't know what hit him. He was suddenly tackled from behind.

"Well, well, what have we here?" One man asked, delighted with the prospect of receiving a bounty.

"Long way from home, aren't you, boy?"A second man asked, in an identical tone to the first's.

"And look at that!" a third exclaimed. He was pointing at Jomo's back. The DEVIL mark looked like it was written in faded lettering, but it was visible nonetheless. Apparently, even Jomo's powers had its limits.

"The Devil Child. Lord, boy, your master is going to be happy to see you!" the first man exclaimed, kicking him. The urn spilled, ashes flying over the forest floor.

All was still for a moment.

Jomo burst into a pillar of flame. His eyes glowed red with hate and malice. The man who had kicked him had no time to react. His body was engulfed in flame. He flickered out of view for a moment, and when his companions could see him again, he was a blackened and charred corpse.

Primus looked over at Metatron. "Do you believe me now?"

Both men took out rifles and aimed. "He really is a devil child!" He cried in terror. Both fired.

The bullets stopped in midair, then fell to the ground.

"That's far enough." One man drawled from behind the bounty hunters. Both whirled around, drawing their swords. They saw two men, one in an ancient suit of armor, one in a more modern suit, with a sword at his hip. They instinctively singled out their targets and charged.

Primus calmly regarded the man sprinting at him. The bounty hunter swung, but before the sword could reach, his arm twisted at an impossible angle, cracking loudly. At the same time., his sword folded in on itself, so that the point was buried in his side. Primus put one gauntleted hand at the bounty hunters throat, strangling him. His other mailed fist grasped the edge of the sword and pushed it up, between the ribs, through the lungs and into the heart. The man gasped and died.

The second bounty hunter recoiled as he watched his friend get impaled. He singled out the now unconscious Jomo as the root of the trouble. "That filthy nig-" he started, but never finished. Metatron blasted him with lightning, then grazed him with his sword. The sword barely broke the skin, but it was enough. The lightning rebounded over and over across the mercenary's body. After a while, he shuddered one final time.

Metatron looked over. "Primus, he's out cold."

Primus walked over and slung Jomo over one shoulder. Silently, they stole away into the might.

* * *

2 votes. 1 from a friend, face-to-face. 1 from a fan who went above and beyond. I'm not complaining, it's better than nothing. Shout out to TwilightFan296! His/her comment is very lonely, though. Give it some friends please.

I'm worried that this might be lower quality. I'm rushing because I have school stuff, and don't like leaving my work half-done. I figured I'd get this done quick, then move on to my assignments. Someone's got his priorities in order.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 4

Firebug: Burning Vengeance

October 1, 1850

Jomo awoke with a start. He silently took in his surroundings. He was in a room that was comfortable, but nothing really stood out about it. There were decoration here and there, but the only thing Jomo really registered was a barrel filled with water, squirreled away in a corner, no doubt meant for him. He remembered the terror he felt as the fire flew from his fingers. He shook his head, trying to forget.

That's when he saw the only other person in the room. The man was in the corner opposite the barrel. He was hunched over a desk, scribbling something on paper that crinkled as he wrote. The man finally noticed as Jomo tried to turn away.

"Ah, you're awake." The man remarked casually. Jomo shrank back fearfully.

The man sighed, as if he had expected this to happen. "Well," he went on, "My name is Drake. I'm going to leave and tell my boss about you, give you some time to yourself. When he comes in, you should talk to him. He doesn't mind, say whatever, you like." With that, he stood up and left.

Jomo spent the time alternating between trying to conjure fire again, and believing that he really was a devil. He began to cry when Primus came in.

"What's your name?" Primus asked, not unkindly. Jomo could tell that he meant no harm, but giant waves of power still radiated from him.

"J-Jomo" He stuttered, more afraid than ever. He remembered this man from before he lost consciousness. His last memory was this man slaughtering a bounty hunter in cold blood.

Primus seemed to understand. "You don't have to worry." He said softly. "I only act that way towards other people. You're one of us"

"A murderer?" Jomo shot back. He remembered that he'd killed someone too. He also remembered that Drake told him to speak his mind.

"Murder? Is that what you call it?" Primus asked. "Those men were slavers, they view you and everyone with your skin color as objects, not people. I'm just returning the favor. As far as I'm concerned, they were animals, and we might have ended their lives, but you only murder people."

"So what does that make me?" Jomo asked. He was still afraid but managed to hide it better.

Primus grinned. "Jomo, you are a person. A great person, one of the best this world has to offer. And that is why you are here. Many years ago, I realized that the value of people was–and is-going down. So, I founded an organization called New World Order. It is our duty to find and preserve the best and the brightest that mankind has to give, and one day, when humanity can no longer sustain itself in this dying world, we shall emerge from obscurity and reclaim the world. In short, we create a new world order, so that the world is in safe, reliable, superior hands."

The significance of what Primus had said dawned on Jomo. "Me?! But I'm… I'm a."

Primus stopped him with a frown. "You're limiting yourself. We'd be hard pressed to find someone, white or otherwise, who can conjure fire. Neither I nor anyone at NWO has the right to turn away an exceptional individual such as yourself based on what you look like. I can teach you where your power comes from. I can teach you to control it. I can offer you a life, a real life. Will you let me do that, Jomo?" he stuck his hand out.

Without a second thought, Jomo shook it.

1 year later

Jomo had learned a lot over the past year. Primus and another man named Logos had overseen his efforts to conquer reading. Longer words still eluded him, but he grasped the basic concept.

He learned of the gods, and that he was the son of Hephaestus. Jomo didn't know what to feel, so he felt angry. You'd think a father would do something if he realized his son was a slave.

He also sparred with Drake. He lost often; Drake knew too many martial arts for Jomo to respond to effectively. He learned how to defend himself, but not strike back.

"Don't worry." Drake reassured him. "I might be able to beat you, but those from the Old World will be full of openings. You'll be fine."

Old World. That was how Drake and the others described the humans who were slowly destroying themselves. They talked frequently about it, as if it were some old relic that needed to be thrown away. They also said human as if they were no longer human themselves. They also talked about how Jomo needed to prove himself. Jomo wasn't worried; he was strong now.

Jomo was never truly weak; his work at the plantation had been grueling enough. However, under the constant nourishment, training, and exercise that NOW offered. Jomo looked good. He gained weight, but was still lean and lithe, muscles clearly visible on his arms and legs.

The only thing that Jomo struggled with was the fire.

Every so often, Primus would ask him if he could do it. Jomo could, but it took too long and even when he did, it was a tiny blaze, suitable for lighting candles and not much else.

One day, Jomo figured out what people meant when they said he needed to prove himself. Primus came up and said "I need you to kill your old master." Like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Jomo was against the whole idea. It's not that his master didn't deserve to die; he did, and Jomo knew it better than anyone. But Jomo thought killing him wasn't worth the trouble. Jomo had friends here, he had a life. What if someone caught him?

Primus laughed aloud when he voiced his complaints. "Jomo we didn't train you for a year so that some Old World simpletons could arrest you. You'll make it out."

Drake walked by, and Jomo was glad that he had something to grasp to. "Drake, make Primus see sense. I'm not killing anyone."

Drake understood almost immediately. "Jomo, as far as I'm concerned, Primus is right. No matter how you feel about it, the fact remains that your master has hurt you, scarred you. A year ago, I might not have cared. I might have been prejudiced. But now I see that you are one of us. And he hurt you. No one, especially not someone from the Old World, gets away with that. So here's the deal: you go, you kill him, and you find some closure, or I go and kill that son of a bitch myself and you'll never realize your true potential."

"True potential?" Jomo asked.

Primus stepped in. "Jomo, I can't pretend to know what you went through under your master's care, but something he did was centered on fire. Fire can be your friend, Jomo. Fire can be your destiny. But you have to let it in. And to do that, your master has to die."

_Fire can be your destiny…_

"I'll do it." Jomo said.

Later that month, Bentonville, Virginia

Jomo approached under the cover of night. He was not wearing a shirt, daring everyone nearby to notice the faded brand on his back.

Two of the overseers, drunk and up late, rose to that challenge, perhaps a little before Jomo was really ready. They brandished their whips and bellowed incoherently. Jomo was about to reach for the fire, but he hesitated. He knew that the overseers had been horrible and cruel to him his whole life, but he also remembered the bounty hunters panicked scream as he succumbed to the pyre. These men did not deserve to be burned alive.

He sprinted at them, nimbly dodging the whips. He swiftly dispatched both men using the _Sun _variant of _T'ai chi ch'uan, _a martial art that was never before seen on this continent. Both men fell to the ground with crushed windpipes and several broken bones. Now that they deserved.

Jomo snuck into the house, hoping to catch his master asleep. His master lived alone, and he found more enjoyment torturing those weaker than him than he would ever find in love. Jomo was in luck, his master was snoring his sheets reeking of sweat and booze.

Jomo punched him in the face as hard as he could, and was more than satisfied to see teeth fly. The master was about to scream in surprise when Jomo clamped a coal-black hand over his mouth.

_Fire can be your destiny…_

Jomo superheated his hand. The master couldn't scream, but he moaned pitifully as his mouth was literally burned shut. The burned man scrambled, tried to make a run for it, but two well-placed bursts of flames scalded the nerves in his legs.

The master couldn't move or speak. Jomo realized what everyone at NWO meant when they talked about the old world and how it had to go. For all of the pain that the master had inflicted, he was just hot air, no match for an open flame.

_The New replaces the Old, _Jomo thought, steeling himself for what was to come. "Do you remember me, master?" he asked casually, lighting his hand on fire. "I'm a devil child."

He slowly paced across the room, reached over to grab a box of cigars the master had on his bedside table. He took one out and stared at it intently.

"Oh, _master,_"he channeled all of his hatred and rage into that one word. "Did you know that cigars could talk?" The penny dropped. The master shuddered in fear.

Jomo put one ear to the cigar, sniffed it. "You know what it says, master? It says I have the power. I am in control here. You are completely at my mercy." He stopped, lit the cigar with a burning finger, put it in his mouth. He breathed deeply before he began again. "It says you are the scum of the Earth and you will live out the rest of your _very _short life knowing that I am superior to you in every way."

A staggering inferno surged forth from Jomo's palms. He did not stop it for well over a minute. He stopped with the realization that the wooden house was burning down, and that nothing was left of his old master but ash.

"Don't sneeze" Jomo said to no one, crying because of the joy, the smoke, and the sickly sweet smell of burning flesh. He took another drag on the cigar, it calmed him down.

He left to the sound of screams, some crying "Fire!", some crying "Freedom!"

* * *

These chapters are getting longer, and I'm working harder and faster at this. For example, i wrote this is less than 12 hours, which is a new high or a new low for me. I'm not sure which.

In other news, your support is steadily trickling in, and I am super grateful for those that posted reviews. Props to Anonemuss14 (I hope I got that right; I'm too lazy to check) for following this Fanfic.

I meant to say this last chapter but forgot: It might look like it has a few plot holes now, but they will all be fixed and explained in good time, by which I mean the next chapter.

Finally, I meant for this to be canonically valid, meaning I was willing to wait until the end of Heroes of Olympus. At the rate that I'm uploading that is physically impossible and I don't feel like slowing down. So, I'm just going to ad-lib and try to buy myself some time with flashbacks. For a start, I'm assuming the seven main heroes will survive and working my way from there. I'll try not to make too many mistakes.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 5

Firebug: What's in a name?

October 18th, 1850, Outside Bentonvile, Virginia

Primus was waiting for Jomo on a small hill about a mile from the inky column of smoke that now drifted towards the sky. "I didn't know you smoked." He said, gesturing at the box of cigars Jomo had tucked under his arm.

"What can I say? It's grown on me. After all, I am the fire" Jomo declared. He was no longer afraid of the flames, he was one with them. Primus grinned with pride and satisfaction.

"It's not long now before you become a full-fledged member of NWO." Primus started. "Drake and I will teach you how to control and harness the fire. After that, the real training will begin."

One month later

Now that the hurdle that was his master had been dealt with, Jomo proved to be as competent with fire as he was with everything else. Some credit had to go to his teachers, though. Drake and Primus knew perfectly what to do, what emotions to channel, and what he should be feeling when the fire fizzled and sparked. Jomo always wondered how they knew so much.

When asked about it, Drake gave a sly smile and said 'Don't think you're the only one here with powers…" Jomo tried to weasel what Drake's abilities were out of him, but Drake would have none of it.

"Maybe when you formally get admitted." He would say, then return to lecturing Jomo on the finer points of using his fire to cook food.

December 25, 1850

"Jomo, you begin combat training today." Primus ordered. They walked in a forest towards what Primus called the battleground. "You will have a new instructor, and I am sure he will not make the path easy for you. When you overcome this trial, you will be sworn in to the New World Order."

Jomo was confused. "Wasn't I combat training with Drake?"

"In a sense. " Primus admitted. "You were learning to fight, but only with the Old World's techniques and strategies. When you fight your instructor, you will be forced to use your fire to create your own way of fighting, a style fit for the New World."

With that, they reached a clearing in the woods. A man was waiting for them in a makeshift wooden chair. He wore a Chinese _Hanfu_, or robe. It was the color of the night sky and fitted his form very closely, close enough to accentuate his peak physical condition, yet loose enough to ensure he moved around unhindered.

Jomo immediately decided there was something awry about this man. His jet-black, shoulder-length hair was wild and unkempt, sticking out in many directions while still organized enough to grant full range of vision, and not disturb him. His eyes were narrow and slanted, but his pupils were slits, like a snake or maybe a hawk. When he smiled, Jomo noticed than the man's teeth were filed into points, as if his bite were as deadly as any sword. His arms were slightly too large for the rest of his body and rippled with muscles.

"So this is the fire boy?" The man asked Primus, who nodded.

The man stared at Jomo, evaluating how much of a challenge the upcoming fights would be. Suddenly, the man punched Jomo in the solar plexus. Primus shifted to a combat stance, and Jomo could tell that he was going to help.

"Let me make one thing perfectly clear." The man said in slightly accented English. "Over the time we spend together, I will hit you thousands, maybe tens of thousands of times. It will not be because you are black. It is because you are weak. You are weak enough to get hit, and you will keep getting hit until you are strong enough not to." Abruptly, the man was all smiles. Primus caught on and eased up

"_Ni Hao," _the man greeted, offering Jomo an oversized hand. "My name is Koga Zhang."

They fought immediately afterwards. Jomo thought it might make a bad impression if he incinerated a NWO member right before becoming one so he stuck with _Muay Thai. _Koga Zhang grinned with his wolfish teeth and sprang into action.

His thin body grew thinner, his hand elongating even more to be an equal length with his legs. His black robe turned yellow. Suddenly, Jomo was attacked by a small cheetah. Or at least, he appeared to be. The cheetah disappeared into thin air, and about a second later, Jomo was slammed in the back by roughly 130 pounds of blunt force. When Jomo recovered enough to look around, he saw a Grosser Schweizer Sennenhund, or a Swiss mountain dog, staring back at him, happily wagging its tail.

Jomo was stunned. "You can turn into animals?" He asked incredulously.

In the blink of an eye, Koga reverted to his human form. "It's quite formidable, isn't it?" He replied haughtily. "I fight with the all the power of the natural world. In a way, you do too. I consider fire to be a natural thing. Why don't you use your fire?"

Incredibly aware of how he sounded, Jomo answered. "Because I thought I'd kill you if I did."

Koga burst into laughter. "You—kill me? I assure you, boy, if you could kill me so easily, I would have no place in this organization, let alone the position of the Vice Commander of the NWO Division of War! I insist that you use your fire against me, I am more than prepared. It makes no sense that you would-"

A fireball the size of a watermelon hit Koga in the face before he could finish his sentence. When the smoke cleared, however, Jomo got a nasty shock. In the place of eyes, Koga Zhang now had stalks. Koga had turned his head into that of a human-sized snail. Jomo was so shocked, he didn't defend himself as Koga kicked him in the ribs. Jomo was too demoralized that fire would not work on Koga and the rest of the fight went downhill.

A while later, Jomo and Koga sat by a fire, Jomo nursing his wounds, Koga looking smugger than ever.

"I have to ask," Jomo wondered aloud, "Why a snail?"

"Well, I'm fond of bugs." Koga responded. "The Old World is quick to judge them as vermin, yet if you look from a different perspective, bugs are the most powerful of all. In this case, not even fire can stop an Eastern African Giant Snail. In a way, bugs endure, much like you. The powers of a mammal or a fish or especially a bird might have its appeal, but in the end, bugs will always know how to survive. There's one big caveat that I think will teach you a lot about fighting. Do you know what it is?" He asked, a tad patronizingly.

Jomo thought for a bit, then answered. "Snails can't fight."

Koga smirked. "Yes, I have to shift between offensive and defensive animals. I think it would be awfully boring to blow fire at everything in your path, yes? No problem solving! No originality! Such complacency has no place in the New World. I hope that you develop a good fighting style, and I will continue to beat the daylights out of you until you do. Now, off with you! I smell Logos around here somewhere and I'm sure he wants to talk to you about your introduction to NWO."

Sure enough, Logos was waiting just outside the clearing, observing the night sky.

Jomo was about to say something to get his attention when Logos jumped to his feet, reaching in his jacket. He took out a vial of golden liquid that shimmered and glowed in the light. He offered it to Jomo, who gingerly accepted it.

"What is it?" Jomo asked cautiously.

"I call it the infinity formula. When you drink it, you will become immune to the ravages of time" Logos explained.

The truth sunk in slowly. "You're telling me that this will make me immortal." Jomo breathed in awe.

"Not immortal. You can still die through sickness or battle. Fortunately, we made it a point to create the Suppot Group division of NWO very early on. They have many reliable doctors. Additionally we teach most of our members how to fight effectively."

"How did you make it?" Jomo questioned.

Logos stared at him for a second, and then replied "Apple Cider" as if it made perfect sense. Which it probably did. In the year or so that Jomo had known Logos, he had heard several comments that didn't make sense immediately, but the real meaning made itself clear much later, like a joke that Jomo didn't understand at first. With shaking hands, Jomo raised the vial to his lips when Logos stopped him.

"I'd recommend waiting, unless you really want to peak at 13." Logos commented dryly.

He had a point.

"So why did you give it to me now, then? You're not the type of person who would forget to give it to me later." Jomo shot back.

"It's a symbol of NWO's trust. We trust you to know when to take it on your own. We trust you not to do anything stupid with it."

Jomo thought for a while about it. "I'll drink it," he promised, "when I can beat Koga."

8 years later

At last, Jomo thought as he raised the vial to his lips. His body was covered in scratches and bruises. He won through luck, and they both knew it, but it was a win nevertheless. If Koga had been faster in shifting from a sparrow to a walrus, Jomo might have been killed or crippled. 7 years ago, Jomo might have thought that Koga's snail form was a perfect defense, but to his current finely tuned senses, there were weaknesses that he could exploit. Even so, this fight lasted about 3 days, from start to finish. Jomo hated to admit it, but he had grown exponentially under Koga's harsh treatment. He was a stronger person in every way.

He shook his head. There was no point in worrying about what ifs. He had won, he was immortal. And it felt amazing.

Roughly 3 years later, August 28, 1861, Cape Lookout, North Carolina

"Thanks again for letting me fight, Primus. I know that NWO hasn't really participated in Old World wars before, but-"

"This concerns the freedom of slaves, so it's very important to you. I understand, and I don't mind, so long as you have the others with you."

Jomo looked over his shoulder. Drake waved. Metatron looked uninterested. Nox even more so. They were selected because they were all were very proficient with swords and would fit in to the 20th New York Infantry regiment. Some Mist had to be manipulated to convince people of Jomo's worth, but the Union was in no condition to be picky here. Primus had initially been opposed to the idea, but Jomo's spirited pleading eventually won him over.

"We'll be back soon" Jomo said with a smile, and terminated the Iris-message.

He turned to the others. "Here's the plan." He explained, gesturing at the two forts that loomed in the distance. "The Union forces are going to attack the east fort first. While they do that, we attack the west fort and soften the Confederate's defenses there. The four of us can fight until the Union switches its focus to our fort. Then we leave. The attack starts in two hours."

Metatron stood up. "I say we attack now. What's the point of playing by the north's rules?"

Jomo hesitated. "Well, for starters, the South will focus entirely on us…"

Drake arched an eyebrow. "I thought you said you wanted a fight?" Jomo conceded and nodded. Nox walked over into the center of their little group. They were swallowed by darkness, only to emerge into the light moments later. They were now in the shadow of the western fort. They were so close, cannons were useless, and they were undetectable unless someone looked straight down from the battlements.

"How did you do that?" Jomo whispered curiously.

"Shadow travel is a power of the House of Hades." Nox answered in a bland, emotionless monotone.

Jomo took a breath. "All right, this hasn't worked out exactly the way I wanted it to, but I'll go along with it. I'll get their attention, and then we fight." Jomo made a quick signal and launched a forty foot bonfire into the sky. Jomo heard curses and yells from the ramparts overhead. The nearest sentries came out of the front doors and saw them.

Drake closed the gar almost instantly and impaled the first one out, throwing his body into a nearby ditch. A platoon of soldiers lined up in front of him, like a firing squad. All of their guns jammed.

Drake grinned mischievously. "Wet powder" he exclaimed, and the guns sprayed mudlike grit everywhere. It began to rain heavily as well.

Water! Drake had powers over water. Jomo stared, wondering how they had been friends for so long despite the nature of their powers.

Drake seemed to read his mind. "Ice, too" he added gleefully and the walls of the fort froze over.

Metatron slammed a militia man into the wall seconds later and parts of the wall collapsed, falling on other soldiers. Those that were looking up were also dispatched quickly; they were easy targets for Metatron's lightning bolts and Jomo's fireballs.

No one could see Nox for three reasons. First, he stayed in the shadows, picking off stragglers first. Second, all he had to do was raise a hand towards the sky and the sun seemed to dim and flicker. Vast shadows fell over the landscape. In the chaos and the darkness, Nox was free to shadow travel anywhere, slicing dozens of Confederate soldiers as he went. No one could see him, much less target or attack him

In a way, none of them could be touched. Bullets and swords melted before they could reach Jomo, and were directed elsewhere by Metatron's magnetism powers. Drake would simply replace himself with an ice statue and reform using a puddle. They were great swordsmen because they knew the basics, but used their powers to augment their fighting style. Suddenly, the fighting sessions with Koga seemed very worthwhile.

Horns sounded from the eastern fort and Jomo knew it was time to go. The group that would be called the Four Swords of NWO fled westward, leaving a trail of bodies in their wake.

April 10, 1965

Jomo stared at the newspaper, not quite believing what he saw. "The war is over?"

Primus nodded. "The war is over. Your people are now free. And you had a hand in it."

Jomo's voice was thick with emotion. "Primus, thank you. I'm not naïve enough to think that it'll all be better. There will still be prejudice, and racism, and violence. But it's a start, and that's enough for me. I swear on the river Styx that I will live long enough to see it get better."

Primus smiled warmly. "You are now accepted into the ranks of NWO. You will captain the seventh task force, the Department of Engineering. You will design and herald the new age with mechanical grace and knowledge. You will fight in our armies as a respected and intelligent officer. Now, what would you like to call yourself?"

Jomo was at a loss. "Uhhh… what do you have in mind for me?"

Primus grinned. "I was thinking Phoenix. Agent Phoenix, raised from the ashes, with more power than ever before."

Jomo thought for a long time on his new name. His mind kept wandering back to something Koga had said.

_In the end, bugs will always know how to survive. _He thought back to the oath he had just made. "I disagree." He said quietly.

Primus didn't seem offended. In fact, his friendly smile widened. Jomo knew it was because he had chosen his own path, not just the one laid out before him.

"And what is your name, Jomo?" Primus asked serenely.

"Firebug."

"That's quite an unflattering name."

"Well, I don't need to be flattered. I just need to live and serve the New World to the best of my ability."

Primus laughed, and Jomo realized he'd been expecting something like this. "I highly value your aptitude with fire and metal, but you have something more important than that. Even in this organization based on dominance and overpowering strength, you retain a sense of humility and humanity. We may need both in the times ahead."

He said the last phrase as if he knew what was going to happen in the future. He stood and offered Jomo a hand.

"Come, Agent Firebug." He said. "The New World needs us."

* * *

There was kind of a delay in updating, but I've seen worse. My friend requested that I make longer chapters. This is my first attempt, its like 3000 words.

I gotta say, my attention span is not suited to infrequent longer chapters. If you've got something to say, either about the new longer format or otherwise, leave me a review! Anything and everything is appreciated!


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 6

The World Down Under

Present Day, Primus, NWO Headquarters, the Grand Elevator

Even though the Grand Elevator was useless to most of the NWO staff, it was still an impressive sight to behold. Its frame was made entirely out of a sleek, dark metal that seemed to bend the light around it. Firebug had designed and built it very recently. The various pulleys and mechanisms were made out of titanium. They had to be extremely durable and extremely efficient, because the elevator went a long way down.

The main function of the Grand Elevator was to serve as an NWO-controlled way in and out of the Underworld. Of course, Nox could ferry people back and forth to and from anywhere using shadow travel, but it didn't have the same opulence, and wouldn't work on the return trip for what Primus was planning anyway.

Much like the elevator to Olympus or the fires at Camp Half-Blood, the music selection tried to mimic what was on the user's mind. Unsurprisingly, the Grand Elevator played Dvorak's New World Symphony basically the entire time. With him were Nox and Obelisk. Nox was as impassive as ever; Obelisk seemed nervous.

"You're sure she's here?" He asked gruffly, pacing back and forth in the elevator.

"Regardless of the treatment she is receiving, dead is dead, Agent Obelisk. I fully imagine that some space is set aside in Elysium for those that grace the skies."

"So, we go to Elysium?"

"In a nutshell, though I want to stop at Asphodel first, and the Fields of Punishment after."

Obelisk grunted and went back to pacing. Primus contentedly conducted the elevator music. And so they descended to the World Down Under.

Asphodel

Primus unsheathed his sword. It was made of a metal that was black as night, resembling Stygian Iron but even more frightening to the denizens of the Meadows of Asphodel. They backed away, rambling incoherently and completely in the dark about their current predicament.

Primus concentrated. Commanding those who have passed was never his strong suit, and while he was capable of more spirit related escapades, it took him the briefest of seconds to gather his thoughts.

"Let those who are worthy touch this sword!" Primus shouted in several European languages, burying his sword about a foot into the coarse black dirt.

Although they did not know why, the ghosts promptly began to fight amongst themselves. Obelisk raised his eyebrows. After all, you didn't see an ethereal riot every day. The ghosts did not get injured, but were shoved to the side or on the ground. One man, one ghost knelt before Primus and gingerly felt the jet-black sword.

"Regain your memories and speak freely. What is your name, warrior?" Primus commanded.

The spirit changed form, color and dignity returning to its ghostly body. It was now wearing the _cota de mala _and _morion _of a 16th century _conquistador._ His hip was now adorned with three feet of Toledan steel, the Spanish sword shimmering slightly in the dim light. It, too seemed to take a moment to marshal its' thoughts. " _Yo soy el Marquis del Valle de Oaxaca." _He replied in dated Spanish, before realizing he had addressed himself by one of his titles.

"_Esta bien. No vamos a toda prisa." _Primus replied. "It's okay. We're not in a hurry."

The _conquistador _thought fiercely. "_Hernan Cortes_" he replied after a short pause.

"Logos is spot on, as usual." Primus thought to himself. "Cortes had done well in the eyes of the Spanish people, but was sentenced here for the sake of the lives he has taken." Nox and Obelisk knew the basic layout of the plan. Find warriors in Asphodel because of their staggering body count and offer them the opportunity to live again, exiting through the Grand Elevator with those who chose to accept. Of course, Primus would've preferred to speak with them while they were still living their first lives, but NWO was understaffed in olden times, and even Primus couldn't watch for greatness everywhere at once. Primus was satisfied with the amount of people he had recruited from Europe in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. However, he probably needed fighters for the Final Judgment, as the ideal diplomatic solution would probably not be achieved. Therefore, they were recruiting in the Underwold

"_Le gustaria volver a pelear?"_Primus asked quietly. "Would you like to return to fighting?"

"_Despues de estar sentado por aqui por los siglos? Claro esta!" _"After sitting around here for centuries? Of course!"

Primus smiled. "_levantarse como miembro de NWO." _"Rise, then, as a member of NWO."

In similar fashion, Primus and his entourage of military general zombies toured the Underworld, more and more paragons of battle flocking to the NWO banner. Primus paid more attention to the older settlements and communities. Names that were embedded in history would eventually serve as powerful assets. Abruptly, however, Primus began to look into more recent areas, where the beeping of car horns and the smog of car exhaust filled the air. Primus was irritated by the noise and poor quality of the air, but this man had to be recruited, even more than the dozen or so warlords that followed him around. They approached a small, cozy looking hut bordering the Underworld's highways.

"Wait here." Nox droned in his robotic voice and the warriors grew still. Primus knocked on the door of the hut alone.

A wizened old man answered the door. His front hallway was littered with office supplies, graph paper, road samples, and other debris. "What do you want?" he asked tersely.

Primus smiled beatifically. "I'd like to make you an offer, Mr. Daedalus. Could we talk inside?"

Primus took a deep breath. He had been talking for a little over an hour, explaining the myriad benefits of working with NWO.

"A new lab, new tools. State of the art, we'll foot the bill. I can take Icarus and Perdix with me; you can still talk to them. A new body for each of you. I'm convinced that when you come back to life, the Labyrinth will begin anew. If we all put our heads together, we can harness its power. It will help instead of harm, be a sanctuary for demigods everywhere." He was prepared and his arguments were many.

Daedalus looked lost in thought, like an old memory had resurfaced from ages past. "You'd choose me as one of the leaders of this…this 'New Age'? I have my failings."

"Daedalus, none of us are above flaws. But we're the best chance humanity has at redeeming itself as protectors and stewards of the world, rather than abusing it, tormenting it. You've seen where humanity has gone as much as I. We used to be great once, Daedalus, and I will not rest until we are again."

"I'll do it. But I won't take Icarus and Perdix with me. Give me a way to communicate with them, and my intellect is yours."

"I'll have my people begin working on it immediately. Once we get to our headquarters, you can see them either to receive it or to help out."

The two men walked–or in Daedalus's case, hobbled–out of the workshop with some closure, the shadows and echoes of the past put behind them.

"Nox, take these people to the Grand Elevator, send them up, and then meet us in Elysium." Primus ordered. He patted Obelisk on the shoulder. "Let's go, big guy."

The Fields of Elysium

Their target proved hard to track down; their band of three searched the shaded groves and serene pastures for many hours. While Asphodel was wreathed in perpetual dusk, those who had done well in their lives were blessed by many things, one of them being a miniature sun that was setting when the companions found the tent, already glimmering in the dying light.

Primus willed its inhabitant to come forth, and a silvery-white apparition parted the tents' folds.

"Hello," Primus started, "how are you?"

"Fine." The spirit answered in a woman's voice, clearly unsure what to make of this new development. She didn't seem like she wanted to answer, but Primus's influence over the dead was too strong.

"Elysium's been treating you well?"

"Yes, very well."

"You have my permission to speak freely, without any interference by me."

"What does that mean?"

Primus gestured at Obelisk. "Do you recognize my friend here?"

The memories struggled and clashed on her face. "I…I think so. He seems familiar…"

"Being here has a way of chipping away at who you are, doesn't it? With the constant euphoria and the monotony, who you were just doesn't seem as important now, correct?"

"No…I remember." Her small hands became more distinct, balled up in rage. There were calluses on her middle and ring fingers. "You…You…"

Obelisk knelt in front of her. "What I have done was inexcusable. I should've saved you. I had other options. But I'm going to change all that. I'm going to make a New World. I love you, and I'm going to make a New World where we can rule together, even if I have to carve it with my own hands. I don't blame you if your memories return, and you don't forgive me, or trust me. You don't have to associate with me in any way. But I want you to know that you belong with the New World. Your skills are formidable, and you have a gentle soul. You are our single best chance at avoiding war with the Old World. You are the peacemaker. You can save many lives, lives that deserve to shape, design and usher in the New Age. So I'm not asking you to do this for me. I just want you to know that I will be working with you. I want you to do this for the people you will save, people more deserving of your love, courage and grace than I will ever be. With you at our side, the world can truly be a utopia. Can you find it in yourself to forgive me, to set old wounds aside to bring about the single greatest era of peace and prosperity the world has ever known?"

The spirit though about it for a long time. Minutes passed. Water from nearby pools gurgled, and tiny fireflies began to dance in small, organized groups. The woman's memories and her desire for a gentler world fought brutally but silently. She seemed to recall things from her past which didn't seem important at the time, but were of the utmost importance now.

"Yes," she replied, so softly that the sound persisted only for the briefest of seconds before being drowned out by the creeks and eddies. They left together, casting three long shadows on the World Down Under.

* * *

If you were inconvenienced by the slighly longer wait time, I am sorry. My good friend had his 18th birthday party and I was running on maybe 2 hours of sleep over the weekend. It took me a little longer to bounce back than I expected but I am back and writing. This chapter is a little on the shorter side, especially after chapter 6, but I just wanted something out before people got too impatient.

Confession time: I am entering the gray area of the story. I do not have this planned out as well as you might think at this point. I am playing around with ideas and fleshing them out, but figuring out the sequence of events is quite challenging. I hope that people will still read this and I want my viewers to know that quality is just as important to me as it has ever been.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The Grid

Primus, NWO Headquarters, the Grid

Work on the New Labyrinth began immediately. Several new names were conceived, the most popular being the Grid and the Network. It was easily the biggest project that NWO had undertaken since the relocation to North America. They had been working in shifts for well over 48 hours, and it showed. Already the massive maze branched out at least 10 miles in every direction from its origin point.

Progress was slow at first. The headquarters' landscape was teeming with monsters and although they were dissuaded by the sentry guns and Zoo specimens that patrolled the various walls, the prospect of an underground entrance reinvigorated them, hope shining in their small, bloodshot eyes. The newest recruits instantly proved their worth, defending the steadily widening outer borders of the Grid.

Daedalus, Logos, and Firebug took turns with the architecture, making sure the entrances were in well-populated areas, making the support pillars firmer, and lining the more important sections with sleek black metal.

It was only when Agent Frost's report came through that everyone stopped working at a fevered pitch.

"What's happened, Frost?" Primus asked. He knew something was going on; this Iris-massage wasn't part of the preplanned report schedules.

"Primus, the Greeks have made their move." Frost reported.

Primus was legitimately surprised. "Have they? I haven't heard from our informants."

"I believe the Oracle has only just arrived there."

"Ah. That would explain it. Go ahead, make your report."

"A quest has been authorized. Three Greeks head north, to Quebec, to see Boreas."

"And I trust that you will track their progress from there?"

"Yes."

"Give me one second; I have some research to do." He hurriedly pulled up the most recent audio feed on his computer, labeled _Greeks_. "Search: names." He enunciated clearly. Some hundred or so recordings, none longer than 5 seconds, showed up. He pulled up a satellite map of Camp Half-Blood. Doing some guesswork, he circled a few areas with a stylus. "Narrow down to these parameters." A few dozen remained. "Find modes." Three names repeated themselves over and over again. Leo. Jason. Piper.

"Cross index these names with police reports of missing persons or juvenile delinquents." Apparently, Jason was a fairly common name among foster kids and runaways. Leo and Piper? Not so much. Less than 10 results each, and Primus's eyes went immediately to the two who were together at some Wilderness School. He did some looking into both of them, taking note that the local fire department could not find what caused the fire that took Esperanza Valdez's life. He also found it interesting that Piper McLean's father was a famous actor, and his agents could not find or contact him.

He racked his brain for a few moments, trying to find out how to find Tristan McLean, wherever he was. He called Capricorn over.

"What can I do for you, boss?"

"Has there been a gathering of any Zoo specimens?"

"More than usual? Let me see…" He closed his eyes and harnessed his aura. "A dozen or so Gegenees at Mount Diablo's the biggest group in America. Why?"

"This just might take priority over the Grid." Primus answered. His detective work done, he turned his attention back to Frost, who was waiting patiently.

"The final destination is Mount Diablo, although I suspect Gaea might pull you away for something else." He did not have to add that his hunches were usually right, especially when he had a certain glint in his eyes. "I'm sending some people from Headquarters to assess these Greek demigods."

"Will I need to contact Gabriel for insertion?"

"No, there's a new thing that I want to try out…"

Drake, the Grid

"So all we have to do is walk down this hallway?" Orion asked, confused. "That doesn't seem very mazelike to me…"

"We'll get around to that later!" Primus snapped. "Right now, getting you and Drake to the Bay Area is more important. Drake, your exit point will be in the San Francisco Bay. Once you get on land, activate your locator. One of our front companies will rent you a car, drive east to Mount Diablo. Bring the ocean with you, you may need it. Orion, you'll be a lot closer to Mount Diablo when you leave the Grid. You need to find a vantage point and set up. The Giant Enceladus isn't exactly a small target, but I need you to make sure that you aren't detected. I've contacted Agent Harbinger, he will assist you on the way, if need be. Your briefing is over. Dismissed."

Orion looked excited. "Let's go kill a Giant!" he crowed, slinging a PGM Hecate II sniper rifle over his back. He ran off into the Grid. Drake nodded curtly and followed.

Drake, the San Francisco Bay, roughly an hour later

No one was surprised to see Drake exiting the waters of the Pacific Ocean. No one was there, seeing as it was the middle of winter. Drake activated his beacon on the coast, a simple GPS transmitter hidden inside a necklace of Spanish gold.

He looked back at the ocean. "Come along." He said to it, gesturing.

It began to rain, not a downpour, but not a drizzle either. As he walked to the car rental, Drake saw a child catch a raindrop in his mouth, then spit it out. It was raining saltwater. In this way, the ocean followed Drake everywhere he went.

He willed himself to get rained on as he entered the rental shop. A nuisance, but less so than if the owner was suspicious that he managed to stay dry in the rain.

"Hello," he said politely, "my company rented a car recently."

"How recently?" the owner asked gruffly.

"About an hour ago."

"Oh, you're the…" the owner glanced at his computer. "You're, uh, North Western Ordinance, right? Paid top dollar for a really fast rental?"

"That would be us." Drake answered cordially.

"Well, could I have a name? So I can, you know, put something in the books?"

Drake racked his brain. He had several aliases, and was deciding which one to use. "My name is William Adams."

"William…Adams…" The owner grunted as he wrote the name down in an untidy scrawl. He perused the wall for a certain make and model, passing the keys to drake when he found it. "Your car is on the far left row, it's, uh, third from the…"

Drake cut him off. "I can find it myself, thank you very much. You'll have it back in less than 12 hours." He walked out of the store, into the rain.

Drake, Mount Diablo

Orion had his locator on, so Drake found him without too much difficulty. "Did I miss much?"

"Not really," Orion grunted. "Whoever these Greeks are, I haven't seen them yet. I see a hostage, though." He offered Drake a viewfinder.

The man was Hollywood material. On a better day, he might've been called handsome, but his clothes were bloody and he looked like he hadn't eaten in days. Also, the giant next to him commanded much more attention.

It towered over the simple wooden pole the actor was tied to. It paced back and forth restlessly, shoving construction equipment out of its way with ease. It filthy dreadlocks billowed in the breeze, the fallen weapons of long-dead heroes embedded in its hair hitting each other with sharp, dissonant clangs. Abruptly, it stopped, turned a certain way, and began to talk. Neither Drake nor Orion could hear what was being said, but they saw the giants' horrific yellow teeth, and a breath that smelled of carrion and despair made it all the way to the spectating duo.

Trying not to gag, Drake looked at what got the giants attention. Four figures were visible, but somewhat hidden behind a bulldozer. Suddenly, the four sprang into action as one. Two charged the giant directly, one began operating a nearby crane with surprising efficiency, and one made a desperate break for the hostage. Orion tensed, his index finger begging to pull the trigger. Drake shook his head ever so slightly, and took a tablet out of his bag.

Logos looked up from his work on the Grid. "Is something wrong?"

"The Greeks have reached Mount Diablo and are starting to fight. Orion is all set to fire and I have a storm on standby. Should we intervene?" Drake asked.

Logos thought for a second. "Wait for now," He ordered. "We'll see how far they get. If any of them fall, take the shot. Aim for a nonlethal area. My main objective is to see if Godsbane still works against giants. With Harbinger on the way, Enceladus's death is a certainty in any case."

Drake returned to the viewfinder just in time to see the butt of a colossal javelin hit one of the ones who charged. "That's our cue." He said silently to Orion.

Suddenly, Enceladus turned around. Orion fired seven quick shots in succession. Drake turned back to the viewfinder and looked for the bullet wounds. They were in the shape of a smiley face.

"Really?"

"Hey, don't judge." Orion shot back.

"Well, apparently godsbane works." Logos piped up. "What shape did you go for this time, Orion?"

Orion was about to answer when a lightning bolt careened across the sky and propelled itself into the giant's chest. Slowly but surely, Enceladus's burnt, mangled form dissolved into bits of dust and fluff.

By the time the duo had returned the car and walked back into the Grid, it was a totally different place. What was once one corridor was now an antechamber that branched off in at least 10 different directions.

"Which path do we take?" Drake asked Orion.

Primus's voice came over a PA system. "There's a trapdoor in the center of the room that leads to a bullet train station."

Drake grinned. "I like what you've done with the place."

"I do too."

So, Drake and Orion went to the station and went back to headquarters without a fuss. The side of the train was neatly emblazoned with the word ARK.

Within one month, the Grid extended its shadowy tendrils all over North America. Within two, every part of Brazil was accessible, as well as all of the Caribbean. South America was conquered by the grid halfway into the third month. By the end of the fifth month, the Grid spanned the world.

In summary, nowhere was safe.

* * *

This chapter isn't very exciting, I know, and its short besides. Its main purpose is to introduce a few concepts like Godsbane and the Grid which have a huge impact later on. I tried to blend the story with the Lost Hero, which is the first real interaction (if you can call it that) with canon characters. There will obviously be more interaction between NWO and the seven, but I'm easing into it right now.

From here, I could continue talking about what happens in the present time, or go into another backstory. Just send me a review telling me how I'm doing and which one you'd prefer.

I will try to end my author's notes with a catchphrase from now on. Working on that.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Marshaling the troops

Logos, the Grid, Underneath the Pacific Ocean

Here, underwater, the walls and ceiling of the Grid were not as well defined as Logos would have liked them to be. The pillars were still there, but crooked as the whole passageway drooped and bent off to one side. Water was already eroding away at the outer walls, miniscule leaks dripping onto him and the briefcase he carried. The original Labyrinth was not meant to run underwater, at least not for long distances. Scaffolds and crude marble columns could only do so much against erosion and the water pressure from 8,000 leagues under the sea. Daedalus had tried his best to reliably get him across, but there were several other undersea routes that needed renovation, and the New York-London passageway was clearly more important. Koga and Gabriel would be waiting in China, but that was all the Europe branch could spare. Additionaly, Agent Ignite was stationed in the area. Metatron and the others, however, would still be in the UK working on the New York-London from the other side, while the California-China fell into disrepair.

Nevertheless, Logos struggled on. He was committed to his task. He had done it for 2,000 years now, and the journey took much longer back then. In the 1900's he had to go by boat; this was nothing. He looked up, at the faraway surface of the ocean. Night was gaining footholds and twilight was fighting a losing battle. Logos trudged further into the grid, the inky darkness swallowing him whole.

Logos, Liqian, Yongchang County, China, 23:00 local time

The entrance to the grid in Liqian was hard to find. It was in a grassy knoll just outside of the small town, and its entrance was a trapdoor well hidden with grass and foliage. He had his beacon on, so Gabriel and Koga knew exactly where to find him.

"So what's this trip about? Why are you over here?" Gabriel asked nosily.

"The final Judgment is just around the corner. I want us to be at full strength. You can come along too, if you like." Logos responded curtly. He tolerated Gabriel and Orion, but they were never really friends. Logos took things too seriously.

"I'll do just that, then" Gabriel confirmed, beaming.

They walked about a mile over to an oddly shaped hill, more like a ramp than anything else. It looked like it had been cut in half, with the three Agents facing the flat side. While, grass grew on the sloping, hilly side, their side was just a wall of coarse dirt. The surface was smooth and unblemished except for two small, curious marks about a foot off the ground. Logos and Koga stuck both of their right index fingers into the holes, like they had done so many times before, and channeled their auras.

The trapdoor slid back noiselessly, revealing a simple spiral staircase that was lined with cobwebs. Without a word, Logos and Koga clambered in. Gabriel soon followed, if a tad reluctantly.

The staircase seemed to go on forever. There were no sources of light as they descended, but Logos had brought a flashlight with him, and Koga morphed his head into some kind of cat, so he had better night vision. Gabe had originally complained about the dark and how he had trouble with the steps, but stopped after they got so far underground that his whining began to echo.

After an eternity, the daring spelunkers reached a wide hallway at the foot of the stairs. Unlike the staircase before it, details covered the hallway and the door at the end of it. The hallway floor was paved into three wide strips of stone, the far right and far left angled slightly to encourage visitors to go down the center. Little alcoves in the walls housed foot-long rods that steadily emitted light. The door wasn't tall, but it was wide and countless runes were etched into the rock.

This was the quintessential "aura lock", created by Agent Angel in ancient times. Basically, to open it, one had to channel the Mist around him or her to a certain wavelength, usually linked to an emotion. As the creator of Ethos, Angel knew the most about the Mist and its various uses, and it showed. Some demigods could use it to make a cover story more convincing, but they were only scratching the surface. Even Logos didn't quite have a handle on Ethos. It was an amazing power.

Explanations aside, the emotion that was needed to open this door was bloodlust. Logos wasn't really all that violent, but Koga excelled in this area, so he opened the lock.

The door swung open to reveal a small balcony, simple and unadorned. It curved sharply to the right, where it led into a room bristling with panels and equipment. A faint silhouette of a tall figure was just visible in the dim light.

"What's so special about this?" Gabriel grumbled, still limping down the hallway.

Koga smiled and shook his head. "If only you knew." He sneered.

Logos was more patient. "Why don't you come here and see?" he invited.

Gabriel stepped onto the balcony and looked over the edge. That's when it hit him. The room was so large, that from the balcony they were at, they could not see the other three walls. As Gabriel looked down, he saw that the floor was a diorama of small clay figures posed in various ways. They were clearly all over the floor and no doubt covered the entire room, even the parts he could not see. After a bit, he realized that there were several floors of clay figures, tiered on top of one another, like some bizarre office building.

"I still don't see what the big deal is."

"Leave, then. No one's stopping you." Agent Ignite stepped out of his control booth. He was about seven feet tall, hair slicked back in a ponytail and dressed in a sharp tuxedo. "He turned his attention to Logos. "What's he doing here? Are we giving out free tours now?" he asked drily.

Gabe stared. "He's Prometheus. That's Prometheus. What's a Titan doing here?"

"Calm down, both of you." Logos ordered. "Gabriel, Agent Ignite has been working with us since Ancient Greece. In fact, he is the Vice-Commander of the Office of Intelligence, under me."

Gabe stared some more. "I thought you didn't have a Vice-Commander."

"That's because he has been working on this project the entire time." Logos was getting impatient. "Ignite, it's time. The Final Judgment is just around the corner."

Prometheus concentrated for a moment, the mist swirling around him. "Whenever you're ready." He prompted, still channeling his aura for the ordeal to come.

Logos took a long look at what was about to be the culmination of millennia of effort. "Rise." He said, in a voice scarcely louder than a whisper. The command echoed around the cavernous chamber, repeating itself several times.

At once, well over 2 billion sets of lifeless eyes flickered on with a green, eerie light. It took a second for the various posed figures of clay to rearrange themselves so they were standing tall, with both feet together. Then, as one, the NWO Terracotta Army shifted into a swift salute.

Gabriel's jaw dropped.

"We come here every 100 years to update the soldiers on how to fight." Logos explained to Gabriel. "The basic mindset was that it was short enough to not be too out of date if fighting occurred at the latter half of the century, but long enough to avoid suspicion and make sure that we were making significant upgrades."

He opened his briefcase, which was full of designs for various automatic weapons and ballistic vests. He gestured for a few of the living statues to move closer. "These are the 'teachers', they are usually one of the newer additions that are tasked with teaching the rest any fighting techniques or martial arts that might have come into being over the past century. " He gave the blueprints to one of the clay soldiers, who began to study it.

"Just them?" Gabriel asked, incredulous that less than 50 teachers could teach the rest with any kind of efficiency.

"As others learn, they teach too. And only a few need to know how to make weapons, the rest only need to know how to use them. About 100,000 are tasked with producing new soldiers and weapons."

"How are they moving, thinking?" Gabriel asked in wonder.

"Logos" Logos said, referring to his namesake, a skill that had become so important to him that it had become his name. "Prometheus uses Logos to act as a kind of hive mind for them. That's why he has to stay here all the time, to make sure that production continues and the army is continuously updating."

As the statue perused the blueprints, Gabriel was staring at the statue with just as much concentration. The statues were ugly things, but they were well made and there were hundreds of millions of them. Each statue had eyes and ears, but nothing else that signified a face. There were thousands of variations. Some were seven feet tall, some were three. Some had layers and layers of mud and dirt covering them like armor, some were cracked and hollow on the inside from centuries of service. This teacher in particular stood about 6 feet tall, wore flimsy clothes made from dust and grit, and was armed with a sword made of stone and a clay gun based on a 1903 Springfield rifle. The bullet velocity was slower, and it wasn't as accurate or durable, but the corpses of police officers or military personnel around the world could always be scavenged once they were shot.

The first teacher had finished his observation of the blueprints and passed it off to another. It ventured into the crowd, bringing tales of machine guns and fighter jets. Prometheus-Ignite turned to Logos. "So what's the plan?" he asked. It occurred to Gabriel just how powerful Logos was. Although he wasn't really a fighter, he was bossing around a Titan. That had to count for something.

"Daedalus knows. He's adding this location to the Grid. Our soldiers enter the Grid and station themselves at strategic points all over the world. Then, it's just a matter of waiting until the Final Judgment." On cue, two doors wide enough to fit a plane through materialized on the two walls adjacent to the control booth.

"How many teachers do we have, Ignite?" Logos asked.

Gabriel spoke instinctively. "One, right? It hasn't even been five-"

"Quiet." Prometheus growled. "There are 157."

"Divide the soldiers into columns. They can learn along the way." Logos commanded

Prometheus walked to the edge of the balcony "All units, move out!" he yelled.

Thousands of clay soldiers marched into the grid, poised to strike, poised to conquer.

* * *

More key concepts are introduced here, and if NWO wasn't threatening before, they certainly are now! Speaking of large numbers, more and more people are reading this (30 upon release to 50 upon release) for which I am eternally grateful.

Apologies for the delay. I was sick for a couple of days and had some pesky tests to make up. Also, I have begun reading _Tale of Two Cities _for my english class, which takes up much more of my day than I would like. As always, if you have something to say, please please please review!


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 9

Koga: Caged Animals

Seneca Gracchus, Carrhae, Harran, 53 B.C., 5:00 local time

"Centurion!"

Gracchus was so busy sharpening his gladius_, _he failed to realize that one of his subordinates -a messenger, a green recruit- was standing behind him trying not to look scared. Now that he was paying attention, the knocking of the boy's knees was clearly audible. "I really am getting too old for this." He thought.

"Out with it, boy." He barked brusquely in Roman. "What are our orders?"

"S-sir, Centurion_, _the _Legatus Augusti pro Praetore _Cassius has commanded that we move out immediately."

Gracchus grunted, turned back to his gladius, checking its' edge. Not as keen as he would have liked, but good enough. He slid it into its scabbard and shakily raised up his shield. Both _Scuta _and owner had seen better days. The shield was dented and hastily mended, over and over again, a wreck that had seen too much of war, much like the man holding it.

He turned and waddled to higher ground, locating the members of his unit.

"Tenth century!" he yelled hoarsely. "Prepare your equipment! We march immediately!"

Some of his soldiers, particularly the younger ones hooted with joy. On the other hand, those like him, nearing the end of their 25 year term, grumbled and fumbled for wayward weapons or searching the pack mule for lucky amulets.

And so, the tenth century of the sixth heavy infantry legion sallied forth into the dark unknown, never to return again.

At first, it didn't seem so bad. The first part of the Parthian offense was apparently to have every member of the army beat a drum. Some, like the messenger from before were terrified at the noise and number of drums. Gracchus only sighed and plugged one ear with his free hand, wondering if the Parthians could kill him, and if they could, would they please do it with less of a racket.

The next step of the enemy's plan was to have their cavalry surge forward and blind the Romans with the sun's rays reflected off their armor. Even the Romans didn't take that one seriously. Gracchus cursed bitterly at the light, and the attention seeking leader who commanded it into being.

It was only when the archers made their passes did the true terror of the Parthian forces set in. Fast and agile, the Parthian ranged cavalry swooped like a hawk after a rat. The packed, dense formation of the Romans made it nearly impossible for an arrow to miss, and their composite bows rendered shields and armor nearly useless. When the Roman cavalry tried to force them back, the Parthians had a good laugh and rode in circles around the slower Roman mounts, loosing volley after volley into the unfortunate horsemen. Some literally resembled porcupines more than they did people.

Gracchus was old, but strong and agile enough to deal the melee-oriented cavaliers. He was thankful for every one. He was in the second row and second column of the legion. He could reach our past the arrow-filled legionary to his right, grasp the reins of the nearest skirmisher, and forcibly yank him off his steed, saddle and all. As those around him fell to the deadly hail of arrows, he used the carcasses of his victims' horses as cover, one more thing between him and the archers.

He hated feeling helpless. There was nothing he could do to stop the archers. They had free rein to fire away, a task they accomplished with bloody relish. Most around him were dead or dying. He stopped abruptly. He was not going to die here. Not like this. With a frantic energy, he left his rank and file, grabbed the nearest corpse and slung it over his shoulder.

"Have you gone mad?!" one soldier cried before receiving an arrow to the throat. Gracchus hurriedly grabbed his body as well and set them both on the ground. He then took his shield and slammed it firmly into the ground. Other legionaries were quickly taking up his cry, labeling him as a traitor and a deserter. Gracchus really didn't care. He might be executed by his own people, but at least he would live that long. He used a small stick to determine where the center of his fort was. He quickly gathered other bodies and shields, forming a crude barrier in all directions that eventually got about waist-high. Gracchus got down low. Now, if they wanted to kill him, they would have to do it on his terms.

He spared the occasional glance at the thinning herd of legionaries. They weren't making it very far. They were arranged in a testudo formation, where the front row made a wall with their shields and the rest made a ceiling. Normally, it worked fine, but time and time again, their shields could not adequately defend them against the Parthians composite bows. Additionally, some soldiers took shots to the legs and straggled.

Gracchus's mass of bodies was by no means pretty and stopped movement altogether, but the sheer mass of shields, horses, and dead romans guaranteed at least partial safety from the archers.

His little hill of corpses was easily defended. If someone wanted to shoot him, they would have to do it point-blank, where he could easily retaliate. The horses had trouble with footing the closer they got, so the close-range warriors actually had to dismount. As long as he could keep the swordsmen between him and the archers, he was relatively safe. The hardest part was the smell of the hill of the dead and the fear that if he stuck his head out for fresh air, he would join their ranks.

Soon, his hill reached chest height. While the archers were resupplying, Gracchus made a scarf that he put over the lower half of his face to mask the musk of rotting flesh. He also made small gaps in the sides of his "fort" so he could see if the other Romans made any progress.

They did not. In fact, they were retreating.

He was done for. If he tried to leave, he would be the sole target of the archers. He was stuck where he was. Hell, if they left him alone long enough, he would just starve. He sat there, quietly awaiting his death.

He did not know how much time had passed. He looked for archers in the gaps of his fort. He didn't find any, but the field of view that a dead man's armpit gave him wasn't exactly spectacular. He decided not to risk it.

In the end, he waited so long that he just began to keep track of the sun's progress across the sky. Suddenly, he heard a voice.

"Can you hear me, Soldier of Rome?" A voice called. He was clearly nearby, but out of Gracchus's field of view. Gracchus chose not to reply.

"An unconventional strategy, I grant you, but one that has allowed you to see the sunset. Won't you come out?"

It really was starting to reek…no. No giving in. Gracchus might not have followed orders, but he did what he did so he could live to serve the state another day. With no small amount of willpower, he remained silent.

"Listen to me, Roman. My name is Spahbod Surena. I command the Parthian forces. I have taken thousands of prisoners today. There is no shame in joining their ranks."

Gracchus growled, disheartened yet unsurprised at how weak his army was. "Maybe they're less Roman than me."

"So be it, Soldier of Rome. I wish you good fortune for your next ordeal." Surena replied with a sense of finality.

Abruptly, the noxious odor of the dead disappeared. Gracchus exhaled, relieved. Then he inhaled and tasted the smoke.

It was so simple. They were going to burn his little hill, flush him out. He tried to pry the body of a Parthian from his inner wall. It was rough work; Gracchus made sure they were densely packed when he made the fort. It dawned on him that he had just doomed himself. He might've even made it easier to dispose of the bodies.

Gracchus took his little stick that marked the center of his would be funeral pyre and clenched it in his teeth; he could not afford to cry out in pain or take a deep breath. He got down low and dug at the bodies with renewed energy. He knew he wasn't going to make it. Some of the corpses were already warm to the touch. But he had to get out.

The smoke was starting to get to him. His vision began to blur. The hair on his arms began to smolder. He redoubled his efforts, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He climbed up, not caring about the archers anymore. He was sure he was hallucinating, but the Parthian archers held their fire. They looked frightened. He could hear and feel bones crunching underfoot and he scaled the burning walls of his fort.

Waves of pain shot through him; with a jolt, he realized he was on fire. Gnawing on his stick, he jumped over his wall and collapsed on the cool earth just outside of the funeral pyre.

The Parthians were unsure what to make of this. The pile of bodies wasn't very large, barely enough to contain a grown man. So how did a horse gallop out of the blaze and lose consciousness right in front of them?

Gracchus stirred as cool water was applied to angry red welts on his back for the umpteenth time. Ever so slowly, he opened his eyes. He was imprisoned in a crude cage made from the _pilums _of fallen Romans. It looked, flimsy, but the lashing that held the whole thing together were both complicated and top-notch. Spahbod Surena was watching him with interest.

"You turned into a horse." he said with a voice that was clearly unsure what to make of this new development.

It took a moment for that to sink in. "I did what?" Gracchus asked incredulously.

"You heard me." Surena shot back, looking reluctant to repeat himself.

Gracchus looked at his hands. They did not seem very horse-like. Surena was looking at his hands too, grimly awaiting some other transformation.

"You know, I should probably kill you." Surena mused, still staring. "You are an affront to nature itself."

"Why didn't you?" Gracchus asked, not surprised by this revelation in any way. Assuming he really could change form, he would kill himself, too.

"I am a curious man, Soldier of Rome. I want to find out what caused this, and if there are more like you."

Terrific, though Gracchus. He would not die with any sort of honor or dignity. Instead his death would be a morbid sort of amusement. He thought it was poetic justice, having watched lions maul slaves and prisoners of war at the Coliseum about a week before coming to Carrhae.

With a twisted sense of humor, he realized they would be treating him like an animal. Terror and despair coursed through his limbs, but he laughed meekly before the darkness claimed him once more.

* * *

I apologize profusely for the delay. You could almost say it was a hiatus. My winter break was essentially a nonstop marathon of halo 4 and league of legends. I literally did not work in any way. It was fan-tucking-fastic.

Aside from that, there were some school papers that needed writing, including a couple for colleges, and this chapter took a lot more research than I thought it would. Additionally, I wasn't really sure when to cut off on this story, so writing this took a little more planning ahead than usual. At this point, I'm really just making excuses for myself. But I am back, and with no foreseeable school projects taking up my time, there will be much less of a wait time to the next chapter.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 10

Koga: The Town of Li-Jien

Seneca Gracchus, Parthian Prisoner Camp, Talas Oasis, 53 B.C., 23:00 local time

Seneca Gracchus awoke to muted sounds of fighting. His head was pounding and his burned back hurt more than ever, but it seemed to him that the fighting was further away and smaller in nature. Perhaps the Parthians were fighting amongst themselves, he reasoned.

That was when all hell broke loose. Out of nowhere, explosions thundered across the camp. Gracchus had never heard a sound like that before. Neither had the Parthians, apparently. Panicked cries and yells to stay calm struggled with the explosions for dominance. Spahbod Surena spared a glance at him as he left the tent, but no more than that. He had a counterattack to orchestrate.

The explosions did not die out for some time. Gracchus was wondering what was happening when the golden man stole into the tent.

Gracchus did not understand how this man made his way to the tent undetected. This newcomer radiated golden light from every pore of his tall, well-built frame, as if the sun had decided to be rude to the moon and light up the night sky with pretty colors. He shined so brightly that it was impossible to tell what kind of clothes he was wearing. The only part of his body you could look at without consequence was his eyes. They too were bright golden, but didn't emit light like the rest of his body. Pupils were visible, only they were just a lighter shade of gold. All in all, Gracchus found it unthinkable that this man strolled across the Parthian camp without anyone noticing.

The man with the golden eyes walked casually across the tent and observed the cage that Gracchus was contained in. He circled it once, and picked one wall to focus on in particular. He began to undo the knots that held the roman spears, the bars of his cage, in place. The golden man's hands were quick and skilled, and the top two lashings were untidy coils of rope on the ground in the blink of an eye. Gracchus watched dutifully and was astounded that he thought the knots were confusing. They looked so easy to untie, as if the man with the golden eyes knew exactly what to do and had spent all his life practicing to untie these particular lashings.

In short order, the work was finished and one wall of Gracchus's cage fell neatly to the floor. Gracchus stepped out gingerly, still in pain from the burns on his back. The man with the golden eyes was also prepared for this and placed his hands on Gracchus's shoulders. Abruptly, the pain ceased.

"I apologize," the man said, his voice reverberating in Gracchus's ears, "I cannot heal your wound, I have only taken away the pain. In time, it will heal improperly, and you will find it harder to move your upper body."

Gracchus finally found his voice. "Who…who are you?" he asked incredulously.

The man with the golden eyes ran his hand through his shoulder-length hair. "Well, I'm afraid I don't know what to tell you. I have had many names over the years. For now, Savior will suffice."

Gracchus seemed to accept this. "All right…Savior, what do we do next?" he asked.

Savior looked back, smiling serenely. "We leave, of course." He said as if there was nothing simpler in the world.

"No offense, but you don't exactly seem like the discreet type."

Savior laughed. The sound was clean and pure. Gracchus felt safe, protected. "Perhaps," Savior relented "Perhaps. Nevertheless, we won't be seen." He said it with such confidence that Gracchus felt he had no choice but to agree.

They walked out of the tent, Savior smiling serenely, Gracchus slightly more apprehensive. Savior's prediction turned out to be true. Outside, the explosions were deafening. Some of the tents caught fire. Parthians ran to and fro, but none seemed to notice the duo, even though they swerved out of the way if they were about to collide. Looking around Gracchus saw other pairs just like them stealing away from the camp. The prisoners were all captured Romans, still in uniform, so they were easily recognizable. Their guardians were nowhere near as flashy as Savior. They wore hide armor, painted black to better conceal them in the night. Unadorned black masks covered their faces. With a jolt, Gracchus realized that it wasn't just him, but dozens of prisoners were being freed while the Parthians were distracted by the explosions and fire.

The procession of freed Romans gathered in a clearing about a mile outside the camp. Gracchus was among the first to stop and waited for about 20 minutes. Finally, the steady stream of prisoners began to dwindle. Gracchus assumed there were about 100 pairs, 100 prisoners that had escaped.

Savior was standing on a rocky ridge about 5 feet off the ground, overlooking his plans come to fruition. "Is everybody here?" he asked in Roman, with the subtext that he knew perfectly well that everyone was here.

The Romans were still too stunned to make a sound, but Saviors followers saluted.

Savior smiled. "Excellent!" he exclaimed, and clapped his hands. The following sound was too loud and too sustained to be a clap. Gracchus put his hands to his ears, closed his eyes, and supposed that every Roman soldier was probably doing the same.

The sound stopped without warning. Gracchus slowly opened his eyes. They were someplace else. They were in a forest before. Now, they were on rocky, mountainous terrain, next to a pool of running water. Gracchus slowly took in his surroundings. On one side, there was desert as far as the eye could see. The other side looked much more inviting, the beginnings of a village just visible in the distance.

Savior seemed to notice Gracchus's scrutiny of the village. "Yes, that is where we are going."

"What is the name of that settlement?" Gracchus asked without taking his eyes off the village.

"Currently, it has no name. It is very small, and only just beginning. In fact, your ragtag group of legionaries outnumbers them. Now, you are the highest ranking officer in the group. What happens next is entirely up to you." Savior explained calmly.

Gracchus considered his options. It did not take long. "No more violence." He said after a short pause. "We go down there, and meet them peacefully."

Savior grinned. "I had hoped you would say that." He said triumphantly.

As it turned out, Gracchus and his Romans could not have come at a better time. Bandit attacks and famine had driven most people away, in search of safety and prosperity. The Romans were a godsend to the village. They had the manpower to till the fields during the day and keep vigilant watch during the night. There was some suspicion from the villager, but the Romans finally proved their worth when they helped defend a man named Zhizhi from Han forces about 20 years later. The villagers and the soldiers learned much from each other, and eventually the town was named Li-Jien or Liqian in the Chinese tongue, in honor of the mercenaries who had saved their lives. Seneca Gracchus settled down comfortably with a wife, fought with his sons to defend Zhizhi, and eventually became a great-grandfather to 15 children. To his dying day, he never forgot about the man with the golden eyes who had made all of this possible.

60 years later, Jie Zhang, Liqian, China, 0 B.C.

Other descendants of Seneca Gracchus were proud to honor his name, usually by adding Gracchus after their family name. It was a little difficult for the Chinese to say, but it was a fitting symbol of gratitude to the savior of their village.

Jie Zhang, however, stubbornly resisted. Even though his father had the name Gracchus, and his 3 brothers were overjoyed to bear the name. Jie clung to his mother's family name like a lifeline. He had heard the stories of his great-grandfathers pilgrimage to China, but interpreted it slightly differently.  
"My great-grandfather was a weakling and a coward." He would say when asked about it. "If it weren't for the golden man, he would have met his end as a craven and a freak. I don't see why you think he's so great."

No matter how hard the other villager tried to convince him of his ancestor's bravery and heroism, Jie would shrug it off and find some corner to skulk in. His scorn of his grandfather put him at odds with the rest of the village, and he typically left, preferring the scenery of the bamboo forests to the east. He would be gone for days at a time. Both of his parents had fallen early to disease, so no one really complained. Jie would usually return with his own food and some small amount of money that he seemingly conjured form nowhere. In truth, Jie was a skilled hunter and sold pelts from his prey at other villages, cooking and eating what he could not sell, but the townsfolk of Li-Jien thought he had joined some bandit group or other, and gently but firmly tried to steer him on what they called the path of righteousness.

Like all of his other brothers, Jie was aware of his great-grandfathers strange powers, he had even used them once or twice. But along with his kin, he abandoned it to live a life of normalcy, or what passed for normalcy at a glance.

Jie had never learned to embrace his power until the other stranger came along. It was an overcast day in the fall, as Jie approached the faraway village. Jie didn't come here often, so he didn't remember the village's name, but he brought a peace offering in the carcass of a pheasant.

The townsfolk received him well enough, and after some fierce haggling with a sly-looking merchant, he was paid generously for his bounty. Jie quite enjoyed winning the argument, but for some reason, the merchant smiled as Jie walked away with the money. With nothing else to do, he explored the village. He explored for a while, until the sun was setting and he came across the studying boy.

The boy looked slightly younger than Jie, perhaps twelve or thirteen. He clearly had an exceptionally strong build, lean muscles easily visible through his robe, yet he was studying, poring over a scroll with a frustrated expression on his face, slowly mouthing the words that he read. The overall impression that Jie had was that this young man had a great future ahead of him. For reasons he could not place, he silently encouraged the boy to keep at it.

However, finally fed up, the boy flung the scroll to one side. Jie was horrified that the boy had such gifts and chose to give up on them.

A voice butted in on his thoughts. "Yes, it's quite frustrating to see someone squander their gifts, isn't it?"

Jie whirled around. It was the merchant from before, the one that was happy to lose his money, as if meeting Jie was worth it. Jie pondered for a moment about what to say. "Yes. That boy could be so much more, but is throwing it away." he responded evenly.

"So what about you?" the merchant asked. Jie stared, understanding eluding him for the time being.

"Let me clarify" the merchant went on. "I know all about you. You and your powers, handed down to you by Seneca Gracchus."

It dawned on Jie that the merchant didn't have the pheasant with him. Of course, it wasn't about the pheasant; it was never about the pheasant. It was about him. Jie was a little intimidated at how much a total stranger knew about his roots.

"Who are you? What do you want with me?" he asked, panicked.

"Calm down; I'm not here to hurt you," came a measured reply.

"My name is Logos."

* * *

Told you it'd be shorter this time! As always, feedback is appreciated. I've got a couple of papers to work on, but I expect that the time between chapters will be about this length.

Quick question: What do you think about me starting another project? I've got ideas about stuff on One Piece or maybe League of Legends and I want to publish them before someone else comes up with something similar. I'm really leaning towards One Piece. Great series that deserves some Sagelabo creativity! But I want to hear your two cents first, so feel free to offer your thoughts in a comment or PM.

Until Next Time, Farewell,

Sagelabo


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 11

Koga: The Island to the East

"What do you want with me?" Jie asked warily. He mentally prepared himself for fighting his way out of this.

"As I said, I'm not here to hurt you." The merchant called Logos said. "I have a… ah, a proposition for you."

Jie involuntarily took a step back. "What kind of proposition?" Jie questioned, silently cursing himself for not holding his ground.

"Look at that child over there." Logos called Jie's attention to the boy who was clearly gifted but refused to read. "You have talents, qualities that make you worth more than the normal man. Yet you do not seize upon them. You do not use them to the fullest potential. You are no better than that boy. But I can help you. I can refine your unique powers. I would like you to join my organization." Logos said. Jie perceived it as another trap, or a test.

"Just that?"Jie asked, taking a step forward to try and compensate for his previous mistake.

Unlike him, Logos did not back down. "This will take more commitment than you expect." He explained, almost to himself more than anyone else." However, the rewards you will reap are beyond measure."

Jie remained skeptical. "What kind of reward?"

"There will be many, and each will be a great blessing in its own right. I will begin with this." Logos pulled a small flask out of his robe. "I call this the infinity formula. With it, you will not age. You will live on far, far longer than you should." Before Jie could properly react, he kept talking. "Like anything, however, it has its drawbacks. You will have to endure. Our organization may force you into periods of inactivity, of stagnation. Yet you must endure. You will live forever, but that may prove to be a double-edged sword."

Jie stared at the flask a long time, weighing his possibilities, unwilling to trust a complete stranger. For all he knew, it might well be poison.

Logos recognized the look in his eyes. "You don't believe me. Which is to be expected, I suppose. You have every right not to be forced to drink. I just want you to know that you are no better than that child. You have so much potential, yet you're throwing it away."

That, Jie could understand. No one else besides his brothers had the power to shift into animals. Was that a good thing or a bad thing, though? Jie always assumed it was a curse for his great-grandfather's cowardice.

Again, Logos seemed to read his mind. "You are free to interpret your power as anything you like. But I see it how it is. Power is power. You have been given this extraordinary ability, and it is an insult to your forefathers to let it lie dormant." He held out the hand with the flask of Infinity Formula. "You do not have to drink this. In fact, I do not expect you to right now. But I implore you: give me a chance. Let me try to convince you that embracing my organization is the right thing to do. Let me earn your trust, so that you will know that this flask is filled with exactly what I claim it is."

Jie crossed his arms and paced back and forth for a while. He knew he had nothing to fear from Logos, from a physical standpoint at least. Logos was trying to recruit him; it would be foolish to attack him and sabotage that effort. He thought about Logos' offer, casting his mind back only a few minutes earlier to the bitter pangs of disappointment he had felt to see the boy give up on reading. His decision did not take long. He gingerly accepted the flask. "I will hear what you have to say," Jie said, choosing his words carefully, "but I make no guarantees."

Logos smiled. Not a big smile, but a gentle curve of his lips. Not sly, but honest and true. It was as if Logos was legitimately happy about Jie's decision but somehow lacked the means to express it. "I would expect no less from you, Jie Zhang." Logos said after a short pause.

Suddenly, Jie was struck by an odd curiosity. "Wait," he asked, "if everyone in your group is so special, then what's your power?"

"_I have many powers, Jie. You will have to be more specific." _Logos answered. With a jolt, Jie realized that Logos was not moving his mouth.

"_It's our way of keeping in touch. I give you my word that I will not intrude on your privacy unless it is absolutely necessary, but if I do try to talk to you and you are able, will you respond?"_

"Yes." Jie confirmed, although somewhat hesitant about it.

"_You don't have to say your answers, just think them."_

Jie tried again. _"Yes." _

"_Good. I will talk to you soon. Embrace your power, Jie. Try to use it more often. Until next time!"_

And just like that, Logos strolled off. Jie looked back at the table where the boy was trying to read. The boy was nowhere to be seen, the scroll abandoned and cast aside. Joe vowed that he would not let the same thing happen to him.

Two months later, outskirts of Li-Jien

True to his word, Logos made sure he contacted Jie frequently throughout the days gone by. Most of the time, it was on subjects of little or no importance, such as how certain plants in the area mixed to make various medicines. He sounded fascinated by these discoveries, but Jie had a feeling that Logos knew what he was doing all along and only chose now to act on it.

_There's no need to be so skeptical, _Logos had said. _I want you to trust me. That's why I'm explaining my basic thought processes in day to day life. _

"Well, it's annoying." Jie complained. "I can't hear myself think, because I don't have my mind to myself. I need to focus to use this power of mine."

_Well, you shouldn't _need _to, if you're doing it right. What animal are you thinking of turning into?_

"A tiger." Jie replied simply. He had chosen the tiger because it was powerful and would make a good first test. He did not want to explain to Logos out of a strange sense of embarrassment, however, so he held his tongue and hoped that Logos would not ask him to justify his choice.

_Well, there's your problem. Are you familiar with tigers?_

"No." Jie admitted after a long, awkward pause. He had seen one or two on his hunting trips, but kept his distance for safety's sake.

_To begin, you need to pick an animal you are familiar with. The more you know about it, the easier it is to imagine yourself in its place. You're a hunter. Try picking something you've hunted before._

Jie racked his brains for a good candidate, somewhat unwilling to pick a weaker creature out of pride. He honestly did not see the point of turning into a creature that did not help him perform everyday tasks.

After a moment's thinking, he found a good option. He had seen many ibexes on his jaunts to the small, craggy mountains to the north. He did not hunt them, but he saw them often enough to accurate recall their large horns and sure footing on the small footholds on stone. He mentally displayed his choice to Logos.

_This could work, _Logos agreed after assessing Jie's myriad memories of the beast.

Jie concentrated, bringing the memories and the shape of the ibex to the forefront of his mind. All he got for his trouble was an extremely painful headache. He shut his eyes and tried to reverse his efforts, to put this attempt behind him and perhaps try again later.

_This is part of the process, for this animal at least. Don't stop. _Logos encouraged.

Jie opened his eyes and was shocked to see two horns, about a foot and a half long and gently curved, sticking out of his head. Elated, he kept going, despite the dull, throbbing pain in his temples. His hands and feet started to itch uncontrollably. Jie quickly maneuvered his feet out of his shoes and began to scratch his extremities violently. When he did, there was a sharp clacking sound, like two smooth stones colliding in midair.

Realizing that he had crossed the point of no return, Jie was equal parts ecstatic and terrified. He thought that he had buried this power within himself a long time ago and would never be able to access it again. He was happy that he would not turn out like the boy who had given up on reading, but at the same time, he was struck with a sudden worry that he would not be able to revert to human form.

_Don't be afraid, _Logos reassured him, _you're doing fine. I will show you how to change back, but first you have to completely turn into the ibex. You started with its most distinguishing qualities first, but now you need to focus on more common traits, like its fur or its legs. _

So Jie concentrated on every other part of the ibex that he could remember. The small and disorganized hairs on his chest became lush, downy tufts of fur. His muscles and bones rearranged themselves so his arms and his legs were the same length and he could canter about as he pleased. His teeth became wider and blunter, good for chewing plants and vegetation instead of the sinewy meat he was used to as a human. The process was slow and gradual, but eventually there stood an ibex instead of a man.

_Wonderful! Now, try to change back._

Jie thought about it, but it was surprisingly difficult. There were so many details of the human body that one just took for granted. Humans, Jie realized, are incredibly complex. Not only that, but because a person's perspective would never change like his, they were blind to all of their physical qualities. Jie hunted, so he observed animals, but he never really observed himself.

_Luckily, I have done some research in this area, _Logos chimed a flash of brief, confused images, Jie understood the basics of human anatomy. Bones realigned themselves to their proper shape. The spine slowly grew upright once more. The longer, angular head became smaller and rounder. The imposing horns on his head began to shrink.

In somewhat less time than before, Jie was back to a human. Yet something felt wrong. His body was slightly more heavyset. It was barely noticeable from an outsider's point of view, but he felt uncoordinated and clumsy. He experimentally took a step forward, then a few more steps. He could do it, but it wasn't second nature. He had to specifically focus on walking, or the large, ungainly soles of his feet would trip him up. He felt uncomfortable in his own body.

_What has happened? _Jie asked Logos, subtly dismayed.

Silence followed for a second or two. _Hmmm… I'm not sure. I have a few guesses. I think that now that you can control what form you are in, staying in one form for too long makes you feel limited. You haven't really changed, you just think you have because you were in another form. _

_But I haven't been in human form for long, _Jie protested.

_Jie, you've been a human all your life. Imagine that you were only aware of the color white before. Now you've just experienced the color red. Can you truly be comfortable going back to white again?_

_I guess not, _Jie resigned.

_I'm glad to hear it. You don't have to right now, but what are you going to change into next? _Logos inquired, somewhat succeeding in keeping the excitement out of his voice.

Jie thought for a moment and tried to apply what Logos had said to him during their exchange. _A bird. _He said finally. _Now, I'm not familiar with birds. But once I am, I can observe other animals in peace and safety and expand my knowledge of other animals. Then I can be a lot of things. _

Logos did not answer right away. _It's only been a couple of weeks, and you have grown tremendously. _He complimented. _Your potential is limitless, Jie. Never forget that. _

Jie was humbled by Logos's praise. He considered what he was about to say for a moment. _I trust you, Logos. I'm going to drink from the flask now. _

Immortality felt no different than before, but it didn't kill him right away either, which he thought was a good sign.

78 years later, 57 A.D, Lelang, China

Logos had told the truth. Even now, Jie looked like he was 20 years old. Jie had learned much of the world, thanks to Logos' guidance. He learned that there was so much more to the world than the regions around Li-Jien. He traveled far and wide, studying and eventually becoming all sort of animals he came across. He continued his hunting and selling, not as much as a source of income now, but as an excuse to get into towns. He could not make too much money selling - NWO valued anonymity – but he could hear what everybody in the town had to say. Mentally sifting through the gossip and rabble, he learned quite a bit about the current state of the empire, or provinces changing hands.

Despite all his knowledge, he was at a loss.

"Exactly what am I doing here?" He asked Logos, who had deemed the matter important enough to be there in person.

"This is your assignment, Jie. Have you heard of the Books of Han?"

Jie was somewhat suspicious that this was a trick question of some sort. "No." He admitted after a short pause.

"I'm not surprised. In order to have heard of it, you must infiltrate the highest level of Chinese society. It is essentially the story of the Han dynasty, and was written some 50 years ago. Only the upper classes have the time or inclination to read this kind of text." Logos explained.

This still didn't answer the question of what he was doing there. "What do you want me to do, steal one of them?" Jie guessed.

"No. If I wanted a copy, I could procure one without too much effort. That," Logos gestured at a boat, "Is what you are here for. A new chapter of the Han dynasty is about to be written, with a short section on the island to the east, across the ocean from Lelang. You will go there and find a creature known by the locals as _Hakuja no Myojin. _You will learn its form, and then return here."

"Got it, I'll fly. " Jie said, and promptly turned into a black-footed albatross, soaring off into the distance.

It was an arduous trip, and far longer than he had expected. He had practiced flying for many years, but never expected to go far away, so he was accustomed to shorter "sprints" rather than a longer trek across an ocean. When he had to, he took breaks landing on the Chinese ship. It did not have a name, but it would be called a _junk _in time. Nevertheless, Jie felt ashamed to not have the necessary stamina to make the trip on his own. Perhaps it might've been a better idea to become a fish, but Jie still couldn't kick the habit of holding his breath, and something might likely try to eat him.

Additionally, he had drastically underestimated how far away the island to the east was. He expected the jaunt to be only a few hours, but rough winds and rough tides extended the journey to over a week. Jie regularly had to steal food from the Chinese historians. He hated himself for that too.

Perhaps a lesser man would've given up, but Jie was made of sterner stuff. That being said, he was thoroughly exhausted when he arrived. That was when another disadvantage presented itself. The Chinese historians at least had a rudimentary understanding of the native's language. Jie did not.

Penned in by the language barrier, Jie had no choice but to go on with no knowledge as to what his quarry was. He might not have even recognized it even if he did see it.

_There is no need to worry, _Logos reassured him. _I chose _Hakuja no Myojin _for a reason. It is unlike any animal that you have seen or learned thus far. It will be impossible for you to miss. _

_ And what makes you say that? _Jie countered. _You haven't even told me what this thing is or what it looks like. _

_ It is conspicuous because it is invisible. _

Jie had been expecting a paradox like this, but it was still extremely annoying to hear. _You're going to have to run that by me one more time, _Jie snarled.

_Your target likes to hang around people, especially in shrines. They will not be able to see it. You will. _

_ So you're telling me to go and look in shrines?_

_ Don't go thanking me now. I didn't help you out much. That's still a lot of ground to cover. I didn't give you this assignment so you could think it was easy._

_ Why is it only me that can see it?_

_ You might not even be able to, at first. That's what this mission is about, accepting your roots. That's the only way you'll be able to see _Hakuja no Myojin.

_ And what does that mean?_

_ You've always had a hatred for your great-grandfather. You need to let that go, and accept your past. I promise I will explain all of this once you return. _

So Jie trudged along, pondering what Logos had meant. How could he see it, but others could not? And what did shrines have to do with anything?

Still, he had a lead now, and no real other choice but to follow it. So he explored the land, hunting for shrines and stopping every now and then to learn the form of some animal he hadn't seen before. Sometimes he would stop and meditate on what Logos had said about accepting his past. He tried to look at things from his great-grandfather's perspective, but judging from the way the story had been told, what Seneca Gracchus did felt fundamentally wrong. He had abandoned his legion, his men, to save his own skin. He was caught, and if the mysterious being known as Savior did not bail him out, he would have been tortured and studied like an animal. Jie supposed that was why he hesitated to use his powers at first. He was worried that in becoming an animal, he would lose his humanity like Seneca Gracchus, abandon everything he stood for and lead a coward's life.

No doubt Gracchus felt he did what he had to do to survive, but Jie never forgave him for that. Maybe it was time to.

_My great-grandfather did what he had to do, _Jie thought to himself, absentmindedly passing the red arched threshold that signified a shrine and bumping into some rather annoyed pedestrians.

_My great-grandfather did what he had to do._

_My great grandfather did what he had to do._

That was when he saw _Hakuja no Myojin._

_Hakuja no Myojin _was an enormous white serpent, easily 50 meters long. Its body was curled around the entirety of the shrine, and its head was on the ground, as if sleeping. Lazily, it opened one eye that appeared to be bloodshot, but the whites of its eyes were just naturally a dull red that contrasted fiercely with the narrow black slits that were its irises. It opened its massive mouth, as if to yawn, and a forked tongue the size of a person slithered out through teeth as sharp and as long as bastard swords.

The monster seemed to notice him, and slowly, gradually it reared up, trying to intimidate him with its sheer size. It towered over everything nearby, casting a long, black shadow against the midday sun. Jie thought for sure that people would be fleeing in terror, but nothing happened. People just went on with their everyday lives. Some went near _Hakuja, _but never noticed or touched him. Then Jie remembered what Logos had said.

_They can't see it! But why? Why is it just me that can see it?_

He would have liked to think about it more, but _Hakuja _lowered itself to the ground and swiftly snaked towards him. It seemed to realize that Jie did not revere it like some of the others nearby. Irritation was clearly visible in its eyes.

Jie jumped to one side, and the snake barreled past. Its massive form couldn't fit through the red arched gate that served as the entrance to the shrine. The two poles that held the whole thing up gave way, and the gate fell with a deafening smash.

That got the people's attention, and some began to run in terror. What amazed Jie was that even then, they did not blindly stumble into _Hakuja. _They took pains to avoid him, although they did not notice him at all.

_Come on, think! What do I have that they don't?_ The obvious answer was his ability to turn into animals, but Jie felt that wasn't the whole picture. Nor was it belief in such creatures, because if that were the only factor, everybody there could see the snake god. Additionally, a lot of people believed in a lot of things; it wasn't really unique.

Jie was on autopilot, shifting to birds and agile cats to avoid the serpent's rampage. Then he understood. It was so much bigger than just who had powers and who hadn't, although that had its part to play.

"I was chosen by the gods to be able to see and do more than everybody else." Jie breathed to himself. The revelation gave him power, more than what he would ever know what to do with normally. But now, he had a purpose. His body grew and swelled out of proportion, while his limbs shrank and withered away to nothing. His teeth clashed furiously as they turned into fangs the size of surfboards. Part of his skin peeled like an onion, gradually losing each color with each layer, until Jie's entire body was white as snow.

Not only had he turned into _Hakuja no Myojin, _he was some 20 meters longer than the original. The original glared at him, as if he had killed its father with some underhanded deceit. Jie glared back at it, and he knew he would not back down. Becoming an animal did not take away his humanity, it enriched it. It allowed him to do better and achieve more than any normal human. The snake hissed in disgust, but it backed away and returned to where it was basking in the sun before..

Jie returned to human form, the process over in an instant. The snake looked at him balefully, but did not try to take advantage of the opportunity that now presented itself.

In time, he wandered from coast to coast, until he was satisfied that his repertoire of animals was sufficiently expanded. The Chinese ship had sailed long ago, but Jie did not mind. He flew back as a Pacific Swallow, and did not falter the entire way.

* * *

Wow. I am so, so, terribly sorry for the delay. To try and make it up, I have made this chapter about twice as long as any other I have put up. There was a lot I had to do, mostly to do with colleges, and this chapter took a fair amount of research as well. But the heart of the matter is that I slacked off. I should've done this sooner and faster, and I offer my heartfelt apologies.

I must sound like a horrible liar at this point, but I don't see any reason why the next chapter shouldn't be posted relatively quickly. As always, I invite anyone reading this to send me feedback, whether it is to call me out on my hiatus, tell me if this chapter kind of dragged on, suggest some other fanfic I could write, or offer a direction this story could go.

Sorry, Sorry, Sorry,

Sagelabo


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 12

Koga: Of Mud and Men

113 A.D, Li-Jien, China

Jie Zhang strolled through what was once his hometown. It seemed unchanged, for the most part. Newcomers were few and far between. The buildings were kept in good condition, if a little frayed around the edges. The only resource around was fertile land, and that was good enough for most people.

Some people gave him odd looks as he passed, but that was more due to his startling new appearance, rather than any sort of recognition. Ever since his encounter with _Hakuja, _there were some parts of his appearance that he couldn't change as a human. His arms were comically large, like those of a mountain gorilla. His nose flattened out on his face, and smells were easier to perceive than before. He grew taller, but his legs grew shorter, making it easier to traverse on all fours, if a bit awkward at times. Those who had known him were long since dead. He knew he had nieces and nephews in the area, but felt no real need to seek them out. As far as they were concerned, he regrettably died in the wild, and he wanted to keep it that way.

There were other reasons for his visit besides nostalgia, however. Logos had called him back here, promising bigger and better things than ever before. Jie had his doubts because he thought his life was in great condition, but came anyway out of a sense of curiosity. One could never tell what Logos was up to.

Having said that, Jie was a tad disappointed when his keen senses led him to a oddly shaped rock about a mile's walk away from the village. It was tall enough to climb and command a considerable point of view, but not tall enough to be noticeable by any semblance of society. The outcrop looked like the desert and the plains were fighting a vicious battle over territory. Logos sat on the ground, patting at the earth intently.

"I never thought I would see the Commander of the Intelligence Decision playing in the mud like a child." Jie introduced, a little crestfallen. He admired Logos, and this was sad to see. Could that ability of his have taken his sanity as well?

Logos turned around, and a sense of relief flowed through Jie. Logos still had that intelligent, determined look, like there was nothing more important than, well, playing in the mud. Or at least that intelligent, determined look that could justify what he was doing…somehow. Jie was skeptical.

"Have you been out West, Jie?" Logos asked, knowing full well that he had.

"Well, I haven't really talked to anyone. Just searching for more animals. The people there don't really take to the Chinese. You might have more luck than me. By the way, I found more mythical animals, like you asked." Jie answered truthfully.

"Excellent. Now, to business. A very important guest has come over from Rome to work on a project of mine. Angel, introduce yourself."

A woman stepped out from behind the rock. She was stunningly beautiful. She stood tall, just shy of 6 feet. She was courteous enough to wear Chinese clothing, but courtesy was all it was. With her looks and skin tone, it was obvious that she wouldn't blend in. Her face was small and angular, veiled slightly by a curtain of silky auburn hair. The robe she was wearing was modest enough, but Jie could easily see she had a perfect figure. She held out a delicate, feminine hand.

"Hello!" she chirped brightly. "My name is Angel! I am the Commander of Alternative Solutions!"

Jie turned to Logos. "Alternative Solutions? What's that?"

"Most of the divisions will be geared towards combat. Angel's is a bit…unorthodox. She is our diplomat, should we need one. If not, rest assured, she can hold her own in a fight. Be warned, though, her style of fighting is even more unusual than yours. Angel is a magician, Jie." Logos explained.

Jie supposed it had to be true. There was no reason for Logos to lie, and only people with powers like him could even be aware of the existence of NWO.

"Magic." He said flatly. He didn't mean to appear quite so doubtful, but it crept into his voice. "And how does magic work, exactly?"

"Well, it's quite simple, really." Angel breathed. "No matter where you are in the world, there is a substance called Mist that is in the air. I don't mean fog or anything like that. It allows anything supernatural to exist or happen. Logos told me a little about your powers. If I had to guess, I would say you are more sensitive to the Mist around and inside animals. You observe them, and then you can replicate their physical and internal structure. As for me, I've been at this for a few centuries. I'm trying to be really versatile with the Mist, so I can do many things."

She said this all very quickly, and didn't seem world-weary in the least. Immortality usually put quite a toll on you, but Angel remained bright and optimistic.

Angel seemed to notice his primitive analysis. "I can see you still don't believe me. Well, seeing is believing, I suppose. Logos, are we ready yet?"

"Not yet, but this one will have to be a test. I don't know how well this plan will work out." Logos groaned, and sat up with a sigh of resignation. Jie peered over at the creation. It was a rough imitation of a human being, except made of dirt. Its arms and hands were extremely well-developed. Clearly, more time had been put into the hands than anything else. Its legs came at a reasonably close second, lattices of stone embedded in the mud, presumably to make the figure more balanced. Its eyes were comically oversized, the sclera extending from the bridge of its nose to where its temples should be. All in all, it was a valiant first effort, but did not remotely resemble a human being. Then he noticed the letters. Jie knew Chinese glyphs well enough, but these were not Chinese. Thin lines of text were etched into its forehead, shoulders, elbows, hips and knees. Jie took all these details in, wondering what the function of this creation could possibly be.

Suddenly, he was jarred from his thoughts by a high-pitched cry. Jie twisted around to see Angel with her hands about a foot over his head with a strained expression. At first, Jie should she was just wiggling her fingers over the figure pathetically, but as he watched, he realized that he saw the Mist.

Perhaps "See" is not the right word, as the Mist was still invisible to the naked eye, but Jie was more aware of the transfer of energy. Waves of power came from her hands, and hit the statue in the face. Some of these particles were absorbed, but those that were not bounced off the terracotta surface of the figure, radiating the nearby area in a surge of warmth, as if they were around a campfire.

After a moment or two, the unthinkable happened. The runes slowly began to glow with a dim, green light. Its arms and legs began to flail about randomly, and the excess dirt that was coating its joints was siphoned off. Its eyes flickered, then they too emitted green light, slightly brighter than the rest of its body. Its real pupils, the ones etched in the mud, could obviously not move, but a small green circle of Mist superimposed itself on the carvings, and could move about freely. Its head turned to look at Jie, and Jie stared back.

"This is all very impressive, but what is the point of this creation?" Jie questioned without taking his eyes off the luminous green eyes.

"The whole point of our organization," Logos answered, choosing his words carefully, "is to reclaim control over the world if it ever becomes evident to us that humanity's administration has failed. However, people who are in positions of power are never willing to give them up."

Jie could only nod, and was uncomfortably aware of the dark implications of the statement.

"We have strength and powers far beyond that of a common mortal," Logos continued. "but we also need numbers. No matter how skilled we are, we cannot be everywhere at once. Even if NWO manages to reclaim the world without any help at all, we still need numbers to keep the peace. There will be riots, uprisings, power struggles. It comes to a point where our powers are too excessive for the situation. We want to avoid taking lives wherever we can, and turning into the _Hakuja _to stop farmers or merchants armed with the most primitive of weapons undermines both them and you. To that end, we need a large amount of middling soldiers, which cannot be human. We are trying to prevent deaths, and humanity will surely aim to kill. I plan to replicate this design thousands of times over, and we will have a formidable army at our disposal."

Again, Jie was thunderstruck. He nodded dumbly. He had always thought of their organization as a group of extraordinary people, crusaders who would reshape the world for the better. Logos made it sound like they were out for genocide.

As always, Logos was cognizant of his inner thoughts. "Oh, don't look at me like that." He scoffed. "I have a _plan, _after all. I won't be massacring for its own sake. I have thought this out much better than you think I have."

Jie had to admit, if anyone could do this with a cool head, it would probably be Logos. Still, he had his reservations.

"Now then," Logos started, rising to his feet and brushing the dirt off his hands. "I have another assignment for you."

"Where do you need me to go?" Jie asked dutifully.

"Actually, you don't need to move at all. You're staying right here. Your assignment is to learn how to control the mist to some degree. You will learn to make the statue come alive, as Angel has, and direct it to dig a cavern underground. Now, you might think that this is easy. After all, you channel the Mist when you do your transformations. But that's what you were born to do. Doing something else will require a very different mindset. Angel will stay behind and tutor you on the finer points of the Mist. As for me, I need to head back West. There's a lead I have to follow about how to make this army more efficient."

Just like that, he left.

It was a few months before Logos came back. Jie gave his studies concerning the golem his best effort, but progress was slow. It was as Logos had said. Turning into animals was easy because he was born with that ability. Doing anything else, however, took a shocking level of ingenuity and innovation. Jie immediately had newfound respect for Angel, not for her appearance, but how easily she could do it. Granted, she still had to concentrate for a second or two, but the statue had a greater range of movement and was physically stronger when it was activated. On Jie's attempts on the other hand, it could only wiggle about feebly for a fleeting moment before he lost focus and it collapsed. Furthermore, physical strength training was pointless. It was all mental work, something Jie was not very used to. After weeks of tutelage, the golem could walk and move about, albeit using a crutch or a stick. His other movements were similarly sluggish. Meanwhile, under Angel's control, it was shaping another golem.

"Sharing's not really my thing." Angel admitted, a tad sheepishly.

They spent many hours digging an underground tunnel, or rather controlling the statues to dig the tunnel, so that the statues would have a place to stay that was out of sight. It was Angel's idea, and it seemed as good a thing to do as any, so that's what they did. It was tough at first, using the Mist to shovel away, but Jie kept at it. Jie's statue could eventually dig quickly, but it couldn't lift much dirt, so it made several small shovelfuls.

Dirt gave way to rock, so they traded their shovels for pickaxes and kept going. Manipulating the golem to use a pickaxe was grueling work, and Jie often complained of lightning-bolt headaches. For the longest time, the clay soldier would simply drop the pickaxe onto the rough stone, looking pathetic more than anything else.

When the pickaxes were notched and bent in all sorts of odd directions, the agents had decided they had gone deep enough and began to hollow out a small chamber. They had just finished a cramped little room the size of a higher-end bathroom stall when Logos came back.

He did not come alone.

His companion was dressed in a flowing white robe that Jie had never seen before. It billowed down to his knees, and a thin gold trim was easily seen in the midday sun. However, it was ripped and torn in several places. His dark hair had not been tamed for a long time, chaotic and waving back and forth in the gentle breeze. He had no facial hair and cruel lacerations lined his face and chest. This mysterious guest left a trail of golden blood in his wake, dripping slowly from a sash that kept his robe from falling apart. The holes were patched up with long, majestic eagle feathers.

In summary, he looked half-dead and a worried look of recognition spread across Angel's face like wildfire. After a short second where Angel made sure he was who he was, she ran to him.

"How bad is it?" she asked, realizing that they were well beyond the point of asking 'are you all right?'

"I'll live. I do not need your pity, human," growled the man through gritted teeth. He looked like he was in a lot of pain, though.

"Angel, heal him." Logos commanded.

"Are you sure about this?" she asked. What struck Jie was how uncertain she looked. When they were dabbling in magic, Angel was very sure of herself. She knew what she was doing. Now, she was almost afraid.

"He's my lead. Do it." Logos replied tersely.

Hesitantly, Angel laid a hand on the mysterious guest's shoulder. "_Heal,_" she breathed with her voice infused with mist.

The healing process was not pretty. Several infected cuts twisted this way and that, spitting out thick globs of pus before subsiding into faded scars. Some of his wounds disappeared altogether. While his clothes were still ragged and bloody, the guest seemed to sit up straighter. It seemed to Logos that the man would not acknowledge it, however.

While Angel kept working, Jie walked over to Logos. "Who is this?" he asked.

"Jie, this is Agent Ignite. He also goes by Prometheus."

In time, Prometheus's many injuries were attended to. Jie kept expanding the chamber at the end of the tunnel with his golem because there was nothing better to do. Logos helped him build support beams for the chamber so that there would be no cave-ins. Occasionally, they would build another golem. Including Angel's and Jie's, there were now exactly 12.

One day, Prometheus came down to the chamber. He appraised it for a long time. "So, this is where I'll be staying?" he grumbled at last.

"You're free to tidy the place up, if you want." Logos replied matter-of-factly.

Jie saw that Prometheus was unhappy to be stuck in such a gloomy atmosphere, but some unknown force of will kept him from leaving. It wasn't like he was imprisoned here, but rather like he had good reasons to stay.

"Send your henchman out," Prometheus sighed, "I have work to do."

"Jie, I would like for you to do two things." Logos started on their way up the staircase.

"I'm listening."

"Only we four know about his place. It must be kept that way. No one else can know, not even others in NWO." Logos whispered, quiet enough so the echo wouldn't reach Prometheus downstairs.

"All right." Jie didn't even know any other members of NWO, so he felt that wasn't too much to ask.

"Second, I need you to come back here every 100 years."

"Understood." It wasn't exactly a huge time commitment, after all.

"Continue your lessons with Angel. We'll never know if we need you to be able to control several of the clay soldiers at once, and I would like you to be proficient to that degree before you run off."

867 years later, 980 A.D, Liqian (formerly Li-Jien), China

The underground chamber had grown exponentially over the years. It could now house a reasonably large army, and a podium was built high above the soldiers to supervise their progress.

Jie watched for a moment as the golems toiled away, making flimsy stone weapons, creating more golems or slapping more mud on themselves to make crude earthen armor. He then turned his attention to the two agents on the podium. Ignite was sitting down with his legs crossed, concentrating. The telltale Mist around him signified that he was using Logos. Logos (the person) was also on the podium, but was pacing back and forth restlessly.

""Um, hello." Jie said, slightly annoyed by how loudly his feeble introduction echoed across the underground chamber.

"Jie. I have huge news." Logos stressed, never stopping his pacing. "You've explored the West as I have asked, correct?"

"Yes, sir." Jie confirmed, not sure where this conversation was headed.

"Have you drawn a map of the region? Coastlines, mountains, things like that?" Logos inquired.

"No, but I know my way around." Jie replied a tad defensively.

"That's not important right now, what is important that you know the shape of the land you live on."

He held out a worn and tattered piece of paper. It was a map, showing all major cities in Asia, Europe, and Africa. "The leader of the New World Order," Logos lectured, "is in the Western part of the world, working on his own projects just like us." He put the map on the ground and drew a few nondescript blobs with his finger in the dirt past the map's upper left corner. "Agent Primus, as he is called, has discovered an entirely new landmass across the Western oceans." He drew a large oval off to the left of the map.

"So what does this have to do with me?" Jie asked.

"Simple. We now need two armies of golems, or failing that, a way to quickly get them to both continents."

"You want me to go to this new continent and start another army there." Jie finished.

"Not quite yet. The problem is that both armies need a power source. I don't think you can sustain an army, and Angel and I are still recruiting new followers. In any case, Primus and I made an agreement not to meet for several more centuries. The only logical conclusion is that Primus has to power both armies."

"He can do that?!" Jie wondered, astonished. In his lessons with Angel, he had quickly learned that the further you were transmitting your power, the more taxing it became. For the amount of energy that it would take to run and expand both armies, you could level the Himalayas or severely cripple a god for a very long time.

"We'll see." Prometheus growled, irritated that his power was being called into question while simultaneously admitting it would be nearly impossible to do.

"Therefore, I want to conduct a test on Ignite's capacity to power golems. We're going to move a small group of the clay soldiers to the Island to the East, _Nippon_ as it is now called. You are going to find or make a place to set them up without arousing suspicion, and on your signal, Ignite will attempt to activate them. Ignite's power is sufficient, we will gradually expand outward, forming small cadres of inactivated golems as we go. If any agents are in the area, they can harness the golems to help in missions. Just be careful. I've taken a look at _Nippon_, and there is some serious political unrest. You just might find yourself in the middle of a war."

* * *

Just to clarify, Nippon is the Japanese term for Japan. I have noticed that the past few chapters didn't have any violence in them. I plan to change that next chapter. There was a decently long delay between chapters, but the chapter is also longer, so I hope that makes up for it. At this point, I'm just going to stall until House of Hades comes out, and we'll see what direction my story takes from there. Also, there might be a delay in making the next chapter; I am going to Japan at the start of June and not coming back till the 20th. I will be traveling a lot, so I'm not sure how good the internet is, or if there's any at all. ( I am staying at some older, traditional hotels.) Obviously, this means that I won't have the freedom to upload like I do at home.

As always, I invite any feedback or commentary of any kind. Reviews, PMs, I eat them all up. I don't expect any favorites or follows, what with my lethargic update schedule, but you have my eternal gratitude if you do.

Sagelabo Out.


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